


What We're Fighting For

by AndiinaRaethTash



Series: Young Enough to Try (To Build a Better Life) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Episode: s03e21 Padawan Lost, Episode: s04e07 Darkness on Umbara, Episode: s04e11 Kidnapped, Episode: s04e15 Deception, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Ezra is a Skywalker, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, POV Alternating, Still Playing Fast and Loose With the Timeline, Time Travel, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 94,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22404214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndiinaRaethTash/pseuds/AndiinaRaethTash
Summary: "Lay your weapons down,We're calling off the war,On account of losing track,Of what we're fighting for."Nine weeks after the mission to the Citadel, Ezra is settling in to the 212th. But as the war carries on around him, he, Ahsoka, and Rex must work through their differences if they want to make it through the war alive, while on the other side of the galaxy, Kanan and Sabine are not alone as they try to keep the Jedi Order alive.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, Ezra Bridger & Ahsoka Tano, Ezra Bridger & Anakin Skywalker, Ezra Bridger & CT-7567 | Rex, Ezra Bridger & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ezra Bridger & Original Clone Trooper Character, Kanan Jarrus & Sabine Wren, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Young Enough to Try (To Build a Better Life) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1465357
Comments: 340
Kudos: 738





	1. When We Lose Everything Else

**Author's Note:**

> I LIVE!  
> All jokes aside, I am sorry for the hiatus, which was a bit longer than I was hoping it would be. But, it is still January, so technically, I'm not late. Right now, I've got about eight and a half chapters finished, and since I intend to stick to my old update schedule of a chapter every Saturday, I shouldn't run out of my buffer.  
> Also, I'd like to tell everyone whose comments I didn't respond to that, yes, I read them, and I grinned like an idiot while rereadding them, but I figured that, since most of what you were saying could be summed up with, 'where's the sequel,' you'd want me writing that instead of a reply. thank you all so much!  
> The quote in the summary and the title of the story are from Mars, while the chapter title is from Woodwork, both by Sleeping At Last.

Obi-Wan Kenobi liked to consider himself a patient man. He’d had to be, to put up with Qui-Gon Jinn, his former Master, and of course Anakin, his former Padawan. How he'd managed to end up with both a maverick for a Master and an unholy terror of a rule-breaker for a Padawan--although Ahsoka wasn't much better, which Obi-Wan considered poetic justice--he'll never know, but both had given him a near infinite supply of patience.

Somehow, Ezra Jarrus managed to make that infinite supply disappear by simply doing nothing. It was infuriating.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan carefully released the annoyance that had been building over the last hour and a half into the Force before ringing the intercom next to Ezra’s quarters. A few seconds later, the door in front of him slid open, and Ezra looked up at him, dressed but dripping wet with a towel around his shoulders and an overly cheery grin hiding the fact that he was clearly thinking,  _ oh, kriff. _

"Morning, Master Kenobi."

"Yes, it is. I'm glad you noticed," Obi-Wan said, raising an eyebrow. "After all, you had a meeting you were supposed to attend this morning. With me. One that you have every day, and still manage to be late or absent for." Ezra looked down at his feet, flushing, and Obi-Wan sighed. "Ezra, this is training. You can't simply not show up because you don't feel like it."

"Maybe I'm trying to get you to take a hint," Ezra muttered.

By some miracle, Obi-Wan managed not to roll his eyes. "I'm aware that you're not happy with this arrangement, but you need training, and the other option is sending you to the Jedi Temple, where they will undoubtedly refuse to train you."

"I know," Ezra groaned, running a hand through his wet hair. He must have just showered, using the actual shower function instead of the sonic shower most of the onboard 'freshers had. Officer's privileges meant he got one a week. Obi-Wan wanted to know what he'd been doing that made him use the actual shower, but that was probably unimportant. "But I did fine for years with no training. Do I really need to start now?"

"I'm afraid so," Obi-Wan said, crossing his arms. "As a Jedi matures, his strength in the Force increases. You are already very powerful, Ezra, and I shudder to think of what could happen if you continue to fight in a war untrained."

"You think I'm gonna Fall." Ezra said bluntly.

Obi-Wan pursed his lips. He knew it was a danger, given that Ezra hadn't been raised in the Temple and taught how to not let his feelings control him, but that wasn't quite the point he'd been trying to make. "I meant more there's a greater possibility that you'll lose control if you're constantly in a very stressful environment, and if that were to happen, you could hurt someone you care about, which I know you would never want to happen."

Ezra was rolling his eyes before Obi-Wan even finished. "Yeah, I've heard that part before. Like, you know, nine weeks ago when you decided that I couldn't stay with my friends."

“And I thought we’d agreed then that you were going to train with me,” Obi-Wan said, irritated. Ezra was either being purposely stubborn to annoy him, or that was just his normal attitude, and Obi-Wan already had a headache. Force preserve him. Why had he agreed to this?

“You and General Skywalker agreed,” Ezra muttered, moving out of the doorway and kicking aside a pillow he’d had lying on the floor. “I was forced to go along with it. Under protest.”

"You're here, now, though," Obi-Wan said as he watched Ezra throw on his armor over his blacks. "You might as well go along with this. Learning how to use the Force, and later, maybe a lightsaber, will help you protect yourself, both from others... and yourself."

Ezra shot him a look. "I thought you weren't worried about me Falling."

"I'm not," Obi-Wan said, raising an eyebrow. "You are. The fact that your immediate assumption was that I thought you might Fall means you think it is a possibility, and one that frightens you."

Ezra scoffed as he secured one of his bracers. "I don't think a Force-wielder should ever not worry about Falling. You only stop worrying when you Fall or when you think you're better than that, which is pride--and you know what they say about that."

"Pride comes before the Fall, yes, I know." Ezra cracked a half-hearted grin, obviously proud of the pun, but Obi-Wan kept talking. "That's surprisingly wise, considering you want nothing to do with the Force."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Wanting nothing to do with it unfortunately doesn't make it leave me alone, as has been very clearly demonstrated."

Obi-Wan breathed a short laugh, but before he could say anything, his comm-link chimed.

_ "General Kenobi,"  _ Cody's voice rang from the comm-link,  _ "General Skywalker's asking for you. He says it's urgent." _

Obi-Wan frowned, bringing the comm-link up to his mouth. "Did he say what the problem is?"

_ "No, sir, just that it can't wait. We're waiting for you on the bridge." _

Not a private holocall, then, so business. Obi-Wan switched off his comm-link, glancing at Ezra with a raised eyebrow to let him know he was waiting on him.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Ezra grumbled as he grabbed his datapad. Obi-Wan just sighed and led the way to the bridge.

Cody and Anakin both looked at him the moment he entered, Anakin's hologram flickering as he relaxed minutely.  _ "Obi-Wan," _ Anakin said in lieu of a greeting.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said mildly. "What's on fire?"

_ "Nothing at the moment," _ Anakin said, but he wasn't smiling. This really must be an emergency, then. His face was drawn, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He looked bloody awful, and Obi-Wan was about to tell him as much when Anakin continued.  _ "Ahsoka's missing." _

Obi-Wan felt his heart stop in his chest. Behind him, he heard Ezra inhale sharply, and he saw Cody stiffen out of the corner of his eye, but Obi-Wan ignored them for a moment, leaning closer to the holotable as if that might make what he'd heard change. "Missing?" At Anakin's nod, he demanded, "Where and when was the last time you saw or heard from her?"

_ "A couple of days ago," _ Anakin replied wearily.  _ "We were taking an outpost on Felucia, she was supposed to take Wolffe and some of his men over the back wall. The men made it, she didn't. Wolffe said she had just been watching their six, no one had spotted them yet--I commed her and she didn't answer." _

Obi-Wan pursed his lips, stroking his beard with one hand as he thought. Ahsoka wasn't the type to run off without at least checking in when Anakin called--she knew avoiding his calls would just make him worry more, and thus fuss more when she got back, which she hated--so she must be in a position where she couldn't answer. Unless they were overreacting and there was a perfectly good explanation for this.

"Are you certain she didn't just misplace her comm-link, or perhaps damage it?" Obi-Wan said, but even as he did, he knew it was a vain hope.

Cody shook his head. "No, Commander Tano's too smart for that. She knows better than to run off without a functional comm-link." Obi-Wan nodded, looking down. Cody turned back to Anakin. "Did she seem like she was upset last time you saw her?"

_ "Not with me,"  _ Anakin said, but he could tell what Cody was thinking.  _ "I mean, yeah, she's still angry with Lieutenant Jarrus, but--" _ Obi-Wan and Cody both automatically glanced over their shoulders at Ezra, who was grimacing as he studied something on his datapad. The last time the two of them had been in the same room, when they’d delivered the coordinates to the Jedi Council, Ahsoka had made no effort to hide how mad she was at Ezra, even if she didn’t so much as glance his way. Obi-Wan could tell Ezra was remembering that. He was clearly paying attention to what was going on around him, though.

Anakin was, too, because he sighed. _ "He's on the bridge, isn't he,"  _ he said in a flat voice, and Obi-Wan nodded.

Ezra took a couple steps forward, so that he appeared on Anakin's holo. "Yeah, but if she ran off because she was upset with me, she wouldn't do it while on a planet that I’m not on. She might be upset, but she's not stupid."

_ "She didn't run off,"  _ Anakin said tiredly. _ "We found her lightsabers at the wall where the boys last saw her. She wouldn't have left them." _

"And you didn't mention this sooner?" Obi-Wan demanded.

Anakin raised his hands defensively. _ "I was about to, then I got distracted by Ezra. Anyway, we've searched the planet. I wanted to stay longer, keep searching, but Master Plo made me realize we would have found her if she was on planet. We're expanding our search, but if you at least kept an eye out, it'd be a weight off our shoulders." _

As Obi-Wan nodded, Cody furrowed his brow, thinking. "Did you detect any ships leaving the system?"

Anakin shook his head.  _ "We weren't even looking. Ground assault, our attention was on the Separatists on the planet, not--" _ he cut himself off with a yawn, and Obi-Wan's frown deepened.

"When was the last time you slept?" He asked, trying to keep the accusatory edge out of his voice, but not entirely succeeding.

Anakin rubbed his eyes.  _ "I don't know, two cycles ago? Three? It's been a while." _

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reprimand him for his poor sleeping habits-- _ kriffing Force, I trained you better than that _ \--but Ezra chose that moment to mutter, "What the kriff?" before looking up at Anakin. "Can you think of any reason why Ahsoka would be on a moon in the Kashyyyk system?"

_ "What?" _ Anakin spluttered, sleep deprivation instantly forgotten. _ "Why would she be in the Kashyyyk system?" _

"I don't know, that's why I asked. Her trackers say she's there, though."

"What trackers?" Cody asked, straightening.

"The ones I put on her--I'm sending you the coordinates now," Ezra said as he quickly began entering a message in the holotable.

_ "Trackers, plural?" _ Anakin asked, even as he leaned forward, bracing his hands against something. Probably the holotable on the  _ Resolute _ , but it didn't show up on their end. _ "How many did you put on her? And why?" _

"Three," Ezra answered reluctantly, "mostly just to see if I could. One of them was on her ‘saber, so it’s saying she's on the  _ Resolute _ , but the other two put her on Wasskah, Trandosha's moon. Ten credits say it was Trandoshan sport hunters. Those guys are nasty, ambitious, and stupid enough to try something like kidnapping a Jedi Padawan."

Anakin sighed, kneading his forehead. _ "Alright, we'll head to Trandosha now. And Obi-wan? I really think you should have a talk with your Padawan about privacy, and how planting trackers on people violates it." _

Obi-Wan nodded, a dry smile on his face. "Of course. Let us know when you find her. May the Force be with you."

_ "Yeah, you too," _ Anakin said distractedly before the call disconnected and the table went dark.

Obi-Wan and Cody turned to Ezra, who shrugged as he hooked his datapad onto his belt. "What?" He asked, a fake innocence in his voice.

"Trackers? Really?" Obi-Wan asked.

Ezra shrugged again. "You're welcome. In all honesty, I never meant for anyone to find out. It was just an exercise."

"What exactly was the point of this 'exercise'?" Cody asked, crossing his arms.

"Reverse pick-pocketing. Wanted to see if anyone ever noticed. So far no one has."

Cody huffed in exasperation. “Who all did you put trackers on?”

Ezra didn’t smile, but there was no small amount of amusement in his eyes. “Well, I didn’t make a list, but Fives, Rex, Kix, Echo… I honestly have no idea how many I put on General Skywalker. Jedi robes have so many good places to put trackers.”

Obi-Wan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… please stop. It’s an invasion of privacy and as much as it might have helped this time, it might backfire and lead the Separatists to us. If you can deactivate them, we would appreciate it.”

“Fine,” Ezra muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’ll deactivate them, but I reserve the right to reactivate them if one of you goes missing. Again.” Obi-Wan  _ humphed _ and Ezra cracked a small smile. “By the way, General, check your left sleeve.”

Obi-Wan ran his hand over the material, finding a small, out-of-place bump in the hem near his wrist. How in the name of the Force Ezra had gotten it there was anyone’s guess. All Obi-Wan could do as Ezra left the bridge was crush the tracker between two fingers with the help of the Force and wonder what in the world he’d gotten himself into.


	2. Run the Risk of Being Intimate With Brokenness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, you guys, the response to the last chapter was so amazing, I can't believe it! You guys are so great!  
> Anyway, here's the next chapter. It's significantly longer than the last one, but it just didn't want to stop.  
> Word of warning: brief mentions of suicide. Nothing too bad, but I stil think a warning might be necessary.  
> Chapter title is from Son by Sleeping At Last.

As he wandered through the halls of the  _ Negotiator,  _ Ezra let himself breath a small sigh of relief. That conversation definitely could have gone worse. Of course, Cody would be keeping an eye on him, not trusting that he wasn’t tagging them in order to spy on them, and Anakin would be even less trusting, but if it meant they actually found Ahsoka without having to wait for her to be able to contact them, it would be worth it.

There was no telling what Obi-Wan thought of him now. Probably something along the lines of a paranoid, cheeky, and somewhat lazy child soldier. Not that most of those weren't technically true: he'd joined an army as a child, he was paranoid (but for good reason) and he'd never quite lost his cheek. But he wasn't lazy. He was choosing not to participate in an activity he knew wouldn't end well.

Under almost any other circumstances, having the ability to learn more about the Jedi, their philosophy, and their way of life would have been amazing. But if he started actually letting Obi-Wan teach him, then Obi-Wan would find out just how much training Ezra already had, which would inevitably bring up who his teacher was, and, of course, the whole time-travel thing. There was no way he was telling anyone else about that.

That was one of the main reasons he hadn't been happy about his transfer. The other big one was that if he was with the 212th, then he wasn't with the 501st, or more specifically, General Skywalker. Granted, Ahsoka knew the plan, even if she wasn't quite as eager to help him as she had been before the Citadel.

He winced as the last conversation he'd had with her ran through his head. Yeah, there was no way she'd forgiven him for that. He shouldn't have told her about Aunt ‘Soka’s decision to leave the Order, anyway, or at least, he should have told her differently. He hadn't meant for it to slip out, but he had been mad with Rex for not understanding why he'd hidden the truth, upset with the transfer, and frustrated with the situation in general. So when Ahsoka had started asking questions he really didn’t want to answer, he'd snapped. And he'd snapped hard.

Hopefully, after he helped find her she’d be a bit more understanding. After all, if he could point out that he was doing most of these things to prevent the future from happening, then he could very easily segue into explaining that if no one knew he was trained, it would protect his teacher, whom Ahsoka would assume was herself.

That was the coward’s way out, of course, and he knew it. But somehow, not thinking about them--any of them--was better than torturing himself with missing them. Better to pretend they never existed. It might eventually make the loneliness go away.

Behind him, someone called his name, and Ezra just barely managed not to jump. In the middle of a Star Destroyer with tens of thousands of people on board, it was easy for him to get overwhelmed and not notice someone coming up behind him, but that didn’t stop him from internally griping at himself for not noticing the clone who was running up behind him.

“Hey, Commander,” Charger said with a grin, and Ezra groaned. 

“For the last time, Charger, I’m still a lieutenant. I didn’t get promoted when I got transferred.”

“You’re General Kenobi’s Padawan, aren’t you?” At Ezra’s reluctant nod, Charger’s grin turned into a smirk. “Then you’re a commander.”

“Except not all Padawans are commanders,” Ezra groused, “and since I haven’t been officially promoted, I’m still a lieutenant.”

Charger slung an arm around Ezra’s shoulders. “ _ Except _ , every Padawan whose master is a general is a commander. I’ve checked, every single one--”

“Maybe, but I’m not part of the Jedi Order, so the rules don’t apply to me, and besides,” Ezra said, ducking out from under Charger’s arm with a reluctant smile, “you’ve already got a commander. How would Cody like it if you suddenly started only taking orders from me?”

Charger laughed. “Oh, he knows about it. Y’know, it’s not just me who calls you that--”

Ezra interrupted him with a groan. “I know, it’s kriffing  _ everyone. _ ”

“Hey, lighten up,” Charger said, bumping against Ezra almost affectionately. “Could be worse. There are always more insulting things we could call you.”

Ezra snorted as they finally got to the mess hall, where Ezra had been heading without realizing it. “What, like Loth-rat? I grew up with that one.”

“I was thinking more like  _ adiik.” _ Charger said with a shrug as he picked up a tray of rations. 

Ezra shuddered as he copied him. “Yeah, no thanks, I’d rather not be known as the kid in this battalion. Technically, you’re all younger than me, anyway.”

“Well, alright, maybe something worse,” Charger said as he set his tray down next to Waxer and Boil, who looked up as the two sat down. “Like  _ mir’osik _ or  _ shabu--” _

“Woah,” Waxer cut in with a friendly grin. “Don’t let Commander Cody hear you using language like that. He’ll make you drop and do a hundred on the spot.”

Ezra shook his head in amusement as he stabbed at the ration bar on his plate. “What is it with the officers in the GAR and the whole ‘no cursing’ thing? Rex and Cody both do it, seriously, are the regs about cursing that strict?”

Boil and Waxer both laughed, and Waxer answered, shaking his head. “Nah, that’s just Cody and Rex. See, Cody’s really uptight about it, and so of course Captain Rex learned that from him, and now no one in the 501st or 212th can get away with cursing. Which really sucks.”

“We mostly just did it when Rex wasn’t around,” Charger said, “Why don’t you--”

Boil shook his head vigorously. “No, we can’t just curse when he’s not around. He finds out.”

Waxer nodded, an almost exaggeratedly solemn look on his face. “He always finds out.”

Ezra chuckled, shaking his head as he chewed. The rations here weren’t the worst he’d ever had, but they were still just a bit too dry and chewy to be called pleasant, and it stuck to the roof of his mouth when he swallowed. Grimacing, he pushed his plate away, resting his elbows on the table as he watched the conversation around him.

Charger was shaking his head. “Well, that’s another thing to go on the list of what’s different. Can’t curse, even if the officer’s not around.”

“What else is on the list?” Waxer asked, looking genuinely curious.

“Eh, less f--” Charger cut himself off with a surreptitious glance around the room, then corrected himself. “--goofing around, more discipline, and a lot more structure to the schedule.”

Ezra nodded, adding, “And less noise. A lot less noise.” 

Charger snorted. “Yeah, that really made trying to sleep fun. I kept thinking, ‘it’s too quiet. Someone should be shouting or singing obnoxiously or blowing something up.’”

Ezra took a swig of water, humming in agreement. That had really thrown him off, although the change was much less jarring than his first night on the  _ Chimaera _ had been. Shaking himself mentally before his thoughts spiralled too far in  _ that _ direction, Ezra turned his attention back to the conversation only to choke on his water at Charger’s next words.

“And the General here’s not in a very obvious relationship.”

“Charger!” Ezra yelped, hitting him on the shoulder.

The clone in question looked over at him, rubbing his shoulder. “What? He’s not.”

“That’s not the point!” Ezra hissed, glancing around. Force, did he not understand what a ‘secret relationship’ was?

“Oh, relax,” Boil said, and Ezra shot him a look, trying not to let the worry--he wasn’t panicking, it was just worry-- show. As much as he wanted Skywalker to know that he could trust others with his secrets, he didn’t want those secrets to be broadcast. That’d make the future Sith trust them less.

Waxer was smirking. “It’s not like we didn’t already know--General Skywalker and Senator Amidala’s  _ thing _ is obvious enough that most of the 212th at least suspects. We might not broadcast it by making a betting pool about it, but we still know.”

Boil chuckled. “That’s not to say we don’t have a betting pool, though. How much do you want to bet that General Kenobi and the Duchess get together at the end of the war?”

Ezra spluttered. General Kenobi had a girlfriend? Or at least someone he was close enough to that the boys would tease him about her? That was news, and rather weird news as well. He’d always been told that none of the Jedi had attachments, with Skywalker being the obvious exception. But apparently not.

Charger thumped him on the back good-naturedly, but kept his eyes on the two veterans. “Meh, I don’t think they’re going to. Both too stubborn to admit anything to each other.”

“You didn’t hear what Cody heard,” Boil said mysteriously, and Waxer snorted.

“You mean that if the Duchess had asked, Kenobi would have left the Jedi for her? Ooh, yeah, that’s pretty convincing. Really makes it look like they are or were a couple.”

Ezra shook his head, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “He said that? To her, Cody or General Skywalker? Because if he said it to her, then, yeah, I’d put my credits on them becoming an item.”

“He said it to her,” Waxer said, grinning, “and Skywalker and Cody both overheard.”

Ezra chuckled slightly, letting a grin creep over his face at the thought. “Oh, I bet Skywalker never let that go."

Boil snorted. “Oh, he was teasing them before Kenobi said that.”

Charger shook his head, smiling as he took a drink. “But you’re still having people betting that they won’t get together at all; in the 501st, it’s not a matter of if, just  _ when _ .”

“Yeah, well,” Boil said, giving Charger a wry smile, “our battalion doesn’t have Skywalker in it.”

“True.”

Ezra looked down at his cup, swirling its contents slightly. “Do all of the battalions have bets running, or is it just the 501st and the 212th?” He asked after a minute, and Waxer and Boil both shrugged.

“I know the 327th does--that’s General Secura’s battalion--but I don’t think any of the others do. At least, I haven’t heard them discussing them,” Waxer said.

“Oh, right,” Charger said, gesturing with his fork. “Her and Commander Bly. Captain Rex told us about that after they all crash-landed on that planet. My money would be on them getting together.”

Ezra opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about--he hadn’t exactly been able to hear all the 501st’s stories before the transfer--but Waxer chose that moment to shake his head. “Unfortunately, we can’t get in on the betting pool for another battalion. Besides, I heard that there might be competition. A gunslinger and his daughter recently joined up, and from what I heard, he’s a bit of a looker.”

As Waxer was talking, Ezra’s commlink went off, and he sighed as he pulled it off of his belt. The other three stopped talking so his conversation could go uninterrupted, but they were all watching him with eager eyes. Probably waiting to see if he was about to get chewed out by a superior. Again.

“Jarrus here,” he said tiredly, then jumped when Ahsoka’s voice came through the comm at a near shout.

_ “What the kriff? You tagged me?” _

Ezra huffed, dragging a hand over his face. “Good to hear from you, too. How was Wasskah?” Skywalker had gotten her back much faster than he’d thought he would. Just how long had Ezra been wandering the halls of the  _ Negotiator? _

_ “Don’t play games, what in the nine Sith hells were you thinking?” _ Ahsoka demanded.

Ezra looked up at the ceiling for a second, trying to push out the immediate surge of frustration. This was not a conversation he wanted to have in the open, or over a comm channel. “I was thinking that we’re in a dangerous environment pretty much twenty-four/five, and there was a very good chance you’d get lost. Or, you know,  _ kidnapped.”  _ He put as much emphasis on the last word, hoping she’d read between the lines and figure out this was one of the incidents he’d been trying to prevent. 

No such luck.  _ “Son of a Hutt, you--you just don’t trust me, do you? You seriously thought I was going to run off? After everything?” _

Ezra frowned. Of course that would be what was on her mind--it was the last thing they’d talked about, and now he was talking about her leaving. Still, she missed where the emphasis had been. “That is not what I said or what I meant, Ahsoka, I know you better than that--”

_ “Obviously not if you actually think me running off is a possibility--”  _

“I didn’t--”

_ “So, what, you put trackers in all your friends?”  _ Ezra couldn’t see her, the conversation was audio only, but he had to imagine she was scowling at the comm held a little too tightly in her hand. She still hadn’t lost the near-yelling volume, and Ezra could see the other clones in the mess hall starting to glance his way in curiosity.

Enough was enough, though, and if she wasn’t getting it through her thick skull that the trackers hadn’t been about her leaving the Jedi Order, then he’d have to make her understand that. “Yes,” he answered, completely serious.

Ahsoka was silent for a second, before spluttering,  _ “What?” _

Ezra clenched his jaw. He hated playing this card, but it was probably the only way to get her off his back. “Well, I have a bad habit of losing the people I care about, so I apologize for doing what I can to make sure I don’t lose another person if I can help it!” Disconnecting the call before he started yelling, he ran a hand through his hair, grabbing it and tugging on it as a frustrated groan left him.

Charger was watching him with an amused glint in his eye. “So how many trackers do I have?”

The metal of the commlink bit into his palm as he clenched his fist around it. “Not now, Charger,” he grumbled as he stood, kicking his seat back as he left the mess hall. He didn’t look around, but he could feel eyes staring at him, burning holes into his back. That had not been how he wanted that conversation to go.

He wandered the halls of the  _ Negotiator _ aimlessly, avoiding people as much as possible. His hands were still balled into fists, and he barely resisted kicking one of the ship’s mousedroids that was unfortunate enough to cross his path. The few people who he did see could obviously tell what kind of mood he was in, and quickly ducked out of his path.

Why couldn’t Ahsoka see the bigger picture here? The trackers hadn’t been about her--at least not in the way she was thinking. The kidnapping incident had been one of the few that Ezra had had an approximate timeline for--Uncle Rex had mentioned that it was right after the Citadel, so it wasn’t hard to pin down--so he’d prepared for it the best way he could: by making sure she could be found quickly. He put trackers on the others so that no one would suspect that he knew Ahsoka would be kidnapped.

Did she know that? No, because she hadn’t given him the time to explain, too busy trying to justify or hide from the fact that Aunt ‘Soka had chosen to leave the Jedi Order. She had been the one asking to know about her future, but the moment Ezra told her something about it, she got obsessed with it, wouldn’t let it go. It wasn’t even fact yet, and she was treating it like it was inevitable. It  _ wasn’t. _ Everything Ezra had been doing up to this point had been to prevent her future from being anything like his past. He didn’t want that for her.

So he’d put a couple of trackers on her to make sure that, little by little, things changed. It was just a couple of trackers, why did she immediately think he didn’t trust her? Why couldn’t she trust him not to doubt her like that?

He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up in one of the training rooms, but it was mercifully empty, so he wasted no time winding tape around his hands and picking a punching bag. He’d already worked out this morning--his room wasn’t great for doing katas in, but he really didn’t have anywhere else to do them--but he needed to work off some steam.

Before Thrawn and the eight months he’d been alone on the  _ Chimaera, _ he hadn’t really liked using punching bags, but eventually he’d learned that using a punching bag was a better way of getting out his frustration--at the Imperials, at Thrawn, at the situation in general--than picking fights with random Stormtroopers. Plus, it had helped him improve his hand-to-hand.

Now, throwing punch after punch at the bag, it felt like he was back there. This time the frustration was aimed at the clones, a weapon waiting to be activated without knowing it. At General Kenobi, for insisting that he needed to be trained. At Ahsoka, for refusing to understand when she should understand where he was coming from the most. At Charger, for not leaving him alone when he was safer that way. At General Skywalker, for falling and dooming the entire bloody galaxy because he couldn’t handle being alone. At himself, for being so afraid he would do the same he cut himself off from the Force entirely.

Really, though, his problem wasn’t with all of them, or even himself. His problem was that this whole bloody situation was forcing him to make impossible decision after impossible decision. He could stand by and watch the clones continue their everyday lives, fighting a war they didn’t choose to fight, all the while being ready to be turned against their commanders and friends at a moment’s notice. Or he could spread the word about the chips and risk not only killing all the Jedi but also turning his friends into mindless drones.

He could watch the Chancellor manipulate the war and kill thousands everyday from his office on Coruscant, or he could turn him in and risk getting himself and all his friends killed. And possibly triggering Order 66 early.

He could watch the galaxy spiral into darkness like it had in his timeline, but he’d be able to meet the people he considered his family again, or he could do the right thing and change the outcome of the war, and ensure that the versions of his family that he knew never existed. 

He knew what the right decisions were, but why did they always have to come at such a personal cost? It wasn’t fair that he had to make these decisions, or that he was the one fate had decided to force all the consequences onto.

Pausing to wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead before it could fall into his eyes, Ezra felt a presence entering the training room. Without turning, he knew it was Charger, and he could feel the clone’s steely determination. Great. Just great. Throwing a durasteel wall up to keep himself from accessing the Force, Ezra threw a punch that made the bag nearly jump out of its maglock holding.

“What?” He demanded without turning around.

Charger didn’t answer for a minute, but Ezra could feel his eyes on his back. Evaluating. Judging. Probably deciding how to start the conversation. Finally, he asked, “So who did you lose?”

That hadn’t been the question he’d been anticipating. Frowning, Ezra asked, “What?”

“You told Commander Tano you had a habit of losing people, but aside from your parents, I don’t actually know who all that was.” Charger’s voice was calm, controlled, but there was an edge to it that said he wasn’t going to back down.

Ezra flexed his jaw, clenching his fists tighter as he glared at the bag in front of him. “Doesn’t matter. They’re not here.”

“Of course it matters,” Charger said, moving away from the door to stand behind Ezra. “They taught you all of this, fought alongside you. You don’t spend years with someone watching your back and not form a bond with them. If they’re gone, then you’ll be feeling that loss, so of course it matters. It’s still affecting you.”

Ezra glared over his shoulder at Charger, who just crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. “What’s it to you? You don’t know them, you don’t even know me. They’re gone, and that’s all that matters.”

Charger scoffed as Ezra turned back to the bag. “Of course I don’t know you, kid, you shut everyone out anytime someone tries to find out more. You’ve got to let someone in. Why are you so afraid to do it?” Ezra didn’t say anything. After a beat, Charger scoffed. “No, I get it. You’re too afraid to open yourself up. That must be why you aren’t a real Jedi.”

How dare he. 

Without even thinking, without really knowing why, Ezra whirled, slamming his fist into Charger’s chest, making him stumble back a few steps. Charger looked shocked, but Ezra didn’t give him a chance to retaliate. “I can’t let people in!” He yelled as he stepped forward, throwing another punch that Charger deflected. “Everytime I do, people die! Innocent people!”

With that, he kicked Charger in the side, then shoved him back. “My mom--my dad--my sister--everyone I ever called a friend. Because of what I did, they’re gone!” 

Charger’s eyes widened as Ezra advanced, still swinging as he yelled. The clone dodged and deflected where he could, backing away steadily. Ezra didn’t care. He had built up his walls so that no one would get in; Charger had no right to try to tear them down. 

Ezra forced Charger back against a wall, trying to land a blow only for the clone to duck. Pain lanced through his hand as it slammed full-force into the wall, but he didn’t stop. Charger had no idea what he’d lost, why he couldn’t risk letting people in. “I couldn’t save my dad, I watched him die--for me--because of me!” Another punch, another dodge. “I left, to save everyone, and now they’re all gone! If I’d been there, this wouldn’t have happened!” 

And it wouldn’t have. If he hadn’t let the purrgil drag him into hyperspace, he’d still be safe on Lothal with the rest of his family, instead of being forced to live through the destruction of the galaxy. Destruction he caused. If he had never been born, Skywalker never would have Fallen and the hundreds of millions of people who’d suffered and died under the Empire’s regime would have been able to live happily.

With a scream of rage, he threw his shoulder into Charger’s stomach, driving him back before throwing him to the floor. “Countless people are dead because of me, because I was  _ born.” _ He managed through clenched teeth. Sweat stung his eyes as he glared down at the clone, who looked up at him with fear and a slowly dawning understanding.

That was wrong. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. “That’s what happens when I let people in. I can’t take that risk ever again. Never again. I won’t let it happen again!” Ezra yelled, but Charger still forced himself to his feet, gingerly turning to face Ezra again.

“Why don’t you say their names?” Charger asked in a quiet voice. 

It took Ezra a few seconds to understand what he’d said, the blood pounding in his ears making it difficult to hear anything except his pulse and the sound of his ragged breathing. Even then, what he said didn’t make sense. “Because it doesn’t matter.” He bit out, then yelped as he ducked Charger’s fist.

“Of course they matter!” Charger insisted, finally fighting back. Ezra raised his arms to deflect the flurry of blows he rained down on him before shoving Charger back. The clone grimaced as he righted himself. “Names matter,” he hissed. “Trust me, as someone who was born with a number instead of a name, they matter. They’re how we remember the dead, because that’s all they leave behind. That’s what you carry with you. Or are you too afraid to acknowledge that they’re gone?” 

Ezra flinched back as Charger yelled at him, then sprung forward with a war cry. Landing a solid blow on Charger’s face, he shot back, “Yes! Yes, I’m afraid! I might act like I know what I’m doing, but I don’t! They were suppose to be here, but they’re not and  _ I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!” _

“You fight!” Charger shouted as he grabbed Ezra’s arms and threw him to the ground, planting his foot on Ezra’s chest. “You fight, because you’re still alive and they’d want you to stay that way, because dying won’t bring them back! They’re gone!”

Ezra grabbed Charger’s other foot and yanked it out from under him. As Charger stumbled back, Ezra flipped onto his feet, slamming his shoulder into Charger’s gut again. The clone stumbled back, but Ezra didn’t give him time to recover. Grabbing his breastplate, Ezra yanked, slamming Charger face-first into the wall again. Flipping Charger around, he grabbed the collar of his blacks and slammed his fist into Charger’s gut.

“I know! I know they can’t come back! I know they’re gone, and I still want them back!” Ezra screamed in Charger’s face before twisting and throwing Charger to the ground again. With a leap, he was standing over the clone, who looked up at him, fear shining through dazed eyes as Ezra brought his fist up to punch him again. “I just--I want--” kriff, why couldn’t he speak? A sob built up in his chest as he realized exactly what he was doing. He was standing over Charger the way Sabine had been standing over--over…

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch, and he looked down to meet Charger’s eyes. The clone had a bloody nose, a split lip, and bruises making one eye look like it was about to swell shut, but he had his hand on Ezra’s shoulder. Not to hold him back, or to stop him. To comfort him.

Ezra sat back with a whimpered, “He promised.” The memory of a starlit night on Atollon made something twist and break inside him, and he turned, driving his fist into the floor with a scream. “He promised! He promised he’d always come back and he’s not coming back because he’s kriffing gone and I couldn’t save him!” 

The sob tore out of his throat, cutting him off as he slumped, letting the fight drain out of him. “I can’t… I never can save them. It’s all… It’s all my fault--it’s always my fault.” His voice died to a whisper, and he quickly wiped his eyes, unsure if it was tears or sweat that he was wiping away. 

Beside him, Charger carefully sat up, holding himself gingerly as he tugged Ezra to lean against his shoulder. Ezra let him. The armor was uncomfortable, but he found he really didn’t care. It was familiar, actually, reminding him of Uncle Rex--another person he’d never see again unless they both lived through the war. Even then, he wouldn’t be the same person. Neither of them would be.

Another sob wracked his body, and he held onto Charger even harder. The clone didn’t protest, even though Ezra had to be pressing against some bruises. Instead, the clone just wrapped his arms even more securely around Ezra’s shaking body, running his hands through Ezra’s hair. Ezra almost asked him to stop, the gesture reminding him too much of what Hera did whenever he’d been sick, but the words stuck in his throat. 

He was pretty sure Charger was saying something, because his chest was rumbling slightly underneath him, but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his own shuddering breaths and the heartbeat thundering in his ears. His chest was sore from the fight and from crying, his lungs aching from his too-heavy breathing. 

Finally, after a couple of minutes of trying to control his breathing, Ezra let the wall he’d thrown up to block his connection to the Force crumble, and he relaxed as the familiar feeling flooded back into his awareness. The broken edges of his training bond ached anew, but the reassurance of the Force made it… manageable, for the moment, especially as it soothed his aching muscles.

Gently pushing himself off of Charger, he wiped his nose on his sleeve, looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charger shrug, wincing slightly as the movement undoubtedly aggravated some of his injuries.”It’s okay, kid, I was asking for it.”

Ezra blinked as the realization crashed into him. Charger had been asking for it in the most literal sense. “You were trying to get me to lash out.”

“Yup,” Charger said, then groaned as he tried to get his feet under him.

Ezra stared at him in disbelief and horror. “You’re insane--I could have killed you!”

“Really?” Charger raised an eyebrow, remarking dryly, “I’m sure I was in terrible danger from your flailing fists. Someone must have taught you not to try to fight when you’re upset. It’s a good way to lose. And if you lose, you’re dead.” Charger hauled himself to his feet at his last words, wrapping an arm around his ribs.

Ezra didn’t look up at him, shame flooding through him. Not only had he let Charger goad him into a fight, he’d ignored everything he’d been taught and lashed out in anger and pain. He was just glad he’d remembered to shut himself off from the Force. Not only could he have fallen back on using the Dark Side, but he could have honestly, genuinely killed Charger. And Charger was right. Pretty much everyone who’d ever actually taught him had told him not to let his emotions control him, or he’d lose the fight.

All he said, though, was, “Yeah. I know.” Even in his own ears, his voice sounded small.

Charger’s smile was honestly more of a grimace. Ezra had probably cracked his ribs--had definitely broken his nose--so of course he was holding himself and wincing like moving hurt. Because it did. Ezra knew from experience that trying to breathe with broken or cracked ribs made you want to stop breathing altogether.

Guilt surged through him as the thought that this was his fault, too, echoed through his mind. No matter what he did, he always caused someone pain. Charger was his friend--the two of them had stuck together since the transfer, especially in the first few weeks--and Ezra had hurt him. Possibly very badly.

This was exactly why Ezra had tried to distance himself, trying to keep everyone at arm’s length. That was just safer. They couldn’t hurt him, and, more importantly, he couldn’t hurt them. Usually it wasn’t quite this literal, but the point still stood: it was his fault when the people around him got hurt.

Unaware of where Ezra’s thoughts were spiraling, Charger extended his hand. Ezra stared at it for a moment before grabbing it and letting Charger pull him to his feet. “C’mon,” the clone said, grimacing. “We should get to medical. You look like  _ osik _ .”

Ezra snorted in disbelief. “Says the guy with a broken nose, cracked ribs, and a face covered in bruises. Seriously, Charger, you shouldn’t have done that.”

“You needed to actually acknowledge that they’re gone,” Charger said quietly, not meeting Ezra’s eyes but keeping a hand on his arm as he led him out of the training room. “Otherwise you’ll get caught up in ‘what ifs,’ and you won’t focus on the battlefield, which is a good way to get killed.”

Yanking his arm out of Charger’s grip, Ezra stopped in the hallway, staring at the clone in confusion. “Why do you care?” Charger opened his mouth, probably about to lecture him on taking care of himself, but Ezra cut him off. “No, just--” he groaned, trying to figure out how to put it into words. “I saved your life once, now you just… keeping looking after me. We’re even now, so why do you…?”

Charger’s expression morphed from worried to something softer, either compassion or pity. “Because someone needs to. You’re a good fighter, a warrior, and a soldier, but you weren’t bred for this war. I don’t want to see you die for it.”

Ezra scowled. He didn’t want pity, and he certainly didn’t want Charger thinking he didn’t know what he was getting himself into. “I might not have been bred by it, but I was born from it. It’s all I know. So I don’t think I need anyone looking after me.”

Charger raised an eyebrow. “If it’s all you know, then that’s all the more reason to look after you.”

As Charger turned and started walking away, Ezra spluttered, “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s all you know,” Charger called over his shoulder, his voice strained. “You probably don’t know what you’re going to do when it’s over. See, us, we’ve got our brothers, we know we can figure that out together, but your family’s gone and you don’t want us to become your new one.”

“I’ll just hurt you if I do,” Ezra muttered as he jogged to catch up with Charger, who managed to glance at him out of the corner of his eye despite the massive swelling around it. 

“No, you won’t, but that’s not my point.”

“Then what is?”

“That if you don’t see a way to keep going after the war, then you aren’t going to make any particular effort to survive to the end of it.” Charger said bluntly, and Ezra almost stumbled out of shock.

“Wha-wait, what?” He managed, but Charger didn’t look at him or answer. Suppressing the urge to growl, Ezra grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and face him. “You can’t honestly think I’d kill myself.” He was only barely able to get the words out, his throat tight.

Charger grimaced. “Maybe not, but I don’t think you’d try too hard to keep from getting killed. And honestly, I don’t think there’s much of a difference.”

“And you think that, just because I lost my family, I’m going to try to get myself killed?”

“Kid, first time we talked, you told me you’d thought about how you were going to die.”

“We’re in a war.” Ezra carefully enunciated every word. “Chances are, we’re going to die. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Charger shrugged, starting to walk towards the medbay again. “I’ve thought about it, but not for long. Usually more in terms of, ‘I don’t want to die here,’ rather than, ‘if I die here I’d be fine.’” He gave Ezra a significant look as he said that last part, and Ezra shook his head.

“I’ve never thought I wanted to die.”

“But you wouldn’t mind if you did.” Charger sounded so certain, and Ezra wanted to protest, but honestly? He couldn’t. Every plan he’d ever had for a future without the war had had his family in it, and with them gone, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Part of him understood what Charger was trying to tell him, but for the most part, he… just didn’t care. And that scared him, especially since it meant Charger was right.

The clone was watching Ezra carefully out of the corner of his eye. “C’mon, kid. You can think about what I said in the medbay while we get treated. Force knows we both need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things: first, before you say anything about the cursing thing, let me just point you to season 1 episode 5: Rookies, where Rex shoots who he and Cody think is a trooper in the face. Cody's response? "What the heck." Heck. Like, he couldn't even say hell. Granted, kid's show, but still. Heck.  
> Second, yeah, the fight between Charger and Ezra was supposed to mirror Sabine's and Kanan's from Trial of the Darksaber. I was even listening to the soundtrack from that episode when I wrote it.  
> Last, for the people wondering when Kanan and Sabine are gonna show up... sorry, just due to the way the story's going, it'll be a few more chapters before we see anything from their POV  
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated!


	3. You Try Your Hardest to Leave the Past Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously have to preface this chapter with a big thank you to you guys because of all the love you've been giving Charger. I was so nervous about how you guys were going to react to an OC being as important as he is (although technically, I know, he isn't an OC, but as he was given little to no screen time in the show, he might as well be at this point).  
> And now, time for some plot! There was a plot point introduced in the last part of the series that's finally going to be addressed, though I don't know how many of you remember that since it was kind of a while ago (I'm still sorry about the long hiatus).

Ezra honestly didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he knew exactly what to do when the ship he was in crashed. On the one hand, if he knew exactly what to do, he usually ended up not getting hurt--or at least, not badly. On the other hand, he only knew what to do because he was in crashing ships so often. Personally, he blamed Skywalker. Bad luck with ships seemed to be tied to his DNA, at least from all the stories he’d heard. It seemed like half the stories Aunt ‘Soka and Uncle Rex had told him started or ended with “And then the ship crashed.”

All that to say, he shouldn’t have been surprised when the emergency lights came on in the shuttle and alarms started blaring. They’d been on their way to a rendezvous with the 501st from Dornea and had already been in hyperspace for a few minutes when the ship jolted.

Ezra immediately dropped into one of the seats lining the walls, thanking the Force that they weren’t in a LAAT, because then they would just have to hold onto the ceiling for dear life.

Charger dropped into the seat next to him as he quickly secured himself. He couldn’t see the clone’s face, but he could feel his amusement--and excitement--like being thrown out of hyperspace and crashing was all a fun game.

“Oh, this brings back memories!” Charger shouted over the clamor. “Almost makes me wonder if General Skywalker’s piloting this thing!”

Ezra barked a quick laugh as he tightened his hold on the harness around his chest. All the other clones--maybe twenty, hand-picked to assist the 501st with whatever mission they were supposed to be headed towards--were all sitting stoically in the rest of the seats. Master Kenobi was in the cockpit, and Ezra could vaguely hear him griping at the pilot over the wailing alarms.

There were no windows, so Ezra couldn’t actually see what was going on, but he could feel a gravitational pull that was  _ not _ the shuttle’s artificial gravity, so they were either headed toward a star, which would be very not good, or a planet, which would be only slightly less not good. Given the lack of panicked shouting from the cockpit, he had to guess planet. The only problem was, they were in the middle of the Outer Rim. There were barely any inhabited planets out here. So if the ship was ruined in the inevitable crash--and he would put good money on that being the case--then they would have to wait until they missed their rendezvous and hope General Skywalker managed to figure out where they ended up.

All told, this was pretty typical luck for Ezra.

_ “Hold on!” _ the pilot yelled from the cockpit, and Ezra almost deadpanned, ‘What? But I wanted to die in the crash!’ Before he could make any snarky remarks, though, the shuttle shuddered as they entered the atmosphere, almost throwing Ezra out of his seat. One of the other boys--a new kid, with clean white armor that made Ezra think Stormtrooper--yelped, panic emanating from him as the ship jolted and swayed. 

Ezra felt it coming a moment before the engine died. There was no explosion, thankfully, but lights and artificial gravity all cut out as something fizzled and  _ popped. _ They all had enough time to exchange a look that said,  _ aw, c’mon,  _ before they were suddenly in free fall.

The pilot was yelling something from the cockpit, but Ezra couldn’t hear it over the screaming of the wind outside and the pressure building in his ears.They’d been mostly level as they fell before; now, they were spinning out of control.

Ezra tightened his grip on the straps, wincing as he heard the stacks of ammo, weapons, and supplies in the hold beneath their feet fall over, sliding around and colliding violently with the walls, floor, and ceiling. Around him, clones yelped as their heads smacked against the walls. Their helmets protected them from hurting themselves too much, but that was still going to leave a mark. 

The Force suddenly screamed, but Ezra only had time to flinch before the shuttle’s side clipped something and they went hurtling off to the side. Pain lanced through his mouth and he realized he’d bitten his tongue, but before he could spit out the blood, the shuttle slammed into the ground. His head hit the wall behind him and for a second, his vision went dark.

When it cleared, the first thing he noticed was that the shuttle was still. Perched at an odd angle so that the cockpit was now  _ down _ while the entrance was pointed mostly  _ up _ , but it was still.

Ezra groaned as he carefully unbuckled the straps that had kept him from being tossed about like a ragdoll. Glancing over at Charger, who shook his head vigorously, obviously trying to wake himself up out of a daze, he pulled his arms out of the straps and let himself fall. Landing lightly on his feet, he forced his way into the cockpit, where Master Kenobi had already pushed the plexiglass window out and was working on dragging the unconscious pilot to safety. 

Kenobi glanced up at him. “You’re alright?” At Ezra’s nod, Kenobi turned his attention back to the clone he had managed to get about halfway out of the shuttle. “Good. Check on the others, get them out of there. I don’t like how the engine’s smoking.”

Ezra turned back to the shuttle, but most of the men had already followed his example and were waiting behind him. They looked mostly okay--granted, it was hard to tell. Most of them still had their helmets on. The only one who didn’t was also the only one who was still strapped to his seat. Ezra caught Cody looking at the clone and tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

“I got this. You get the men outside,” Ezra said gesturing over his shoulder at the cockpit to make sure they all knew how to get out.

Cody didn’t protest, despite the fact that he technically outranked Ezra, just pushed past him and started ushering the boys out of the shuttle, the interior of which was slowly starting to fill with smoke from the engine. Some of them thought to grab a few crates from the hold, which was, predictably, a mess. Ezra noted that the first thing they went for were the supplies, but they grabbed some of the weapons and ammo, too. No point leaving perfectly good equipment behind, after all.

As Charger moved past him, he elbowed Ezra lightly in the ribs, smugness rolling off of him in waves, and Ezra rolled his eyes. Of course Charger would take Cody’s lack of protest as permission to keep teasing Ezra about being a commander. He lightly shoved the trooper before pulling the collar of his blacks over his mouth and nose and carefully picking his way up the side of the shuttle, which thankfully wasn’t completely vertical, or it would have been much harder to climb.

The trooper who was dangling from his seat had his eyes squeezed firmly shut and was breathing slowly, with measured but shuddering breaths, which couldn’t have been easy considering the amount of smoke filling the air. Ezra grimaced as he pulled himself into the seat next to the clone. He looked like he was trying to fight off a panic attack. Those were nasty, Ezra knew from experience, but the kid--and looking at him closer, now, it was obvious that he was just as new as his armor--needed to get out of the shuttle before the smoke got to him.

Ezra carefully nudged the trooper’s shoulder, then jumped back when he tensed and his eyes snapped open. “Woah, woah, easy. Friendly here,” Ezra blurted, spreading his hands non-threateningly when he noticed the trooper’s hand on the blaster rifle wedged between the seats they were on.

Instantly, the clone relaxed, letting his head drop back against the wall with a sigh of relief. “Oh. Hey, Commander.”

“Lieutenant,” Ezra corrected under his breath, looking back over his shoulder to make sure the rest of the clones had evacuated. They had, thankfully, and Ezra turned back to the rookie. “You good? We need to get out of here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, just--give me a sec.” The clone grimaced, shutting his eyes for a split second before reaching with his right hand to undo the straps.

Ezra frowned. He wasn’t moving his left arm, but was keeping it braced firmly against his side. Probably injured it, which wasn’t good. They had had a first aid kit on board, although it was probably lost somewhere in the mess that was the hold, but the supplies in it were limited, they were most likely on a deserted planet, and they didn’t have a medic with them. They’d been counting on getting to the 501st without incident, so they hadn’t see the need to pull a medic away from the action on Dornea. Of course, Ezra really couldn’t be too surprised that that had backfired on them in the most spectacular way possible.

Well, maybe not the most spectacular way. If Sabine had been here, there would have been fireworks.

He shook himself mentally and started helping the trooper out of the harness. The trooper tried to shrug him off, putting up a ‘tough guy’ act, but it was very clear to see that his arm was hurting him. He was wincing as he pulled his left arm out of the harness.

“How bad is it?” Ezra asked, gesturing at the arm in question.

The trooper straightened, trying to hide how gingerly he was holding it. “It’s nothing, sir. I’ll be fine.”

Ezra didn’t say anything. He just raised an eyebrow, mirroring a look Hera had leveled at him so often he’d mastered it. It was a look that said ‘you had better rethink that story,’ and it was highly effective. Especially when leveled at you by an angry Twi’lek.

Apparently, though, it worked just fine from an annoyed human. The trooper looked down, ears turning red, and muttered, “Think I dislocated it.”

Ezra nodded, then glanced back down at the cockpit. He could hear the rest of the troopers talking outside, although he couldn’t see the cockpit anymore--the smoke was too thick, already making his eyes sting. Still, he knew the drop wouldn’t be good on a dislocated shoulder, especially considering that they were at the back--now the top--of the shuttle.

With a sigh, he turned back to the trooper. “Alright, you’re going to have to jump. I’m going to catch you before you hit the ground, though, so hopefully it won’t be too bad.”

Instantly the trooper blanched. “Sir, that’s not--I can’t--um, I can just climb down.”

“Not on that shoulder,” Ezra said wryly, quickly adjusting the fabric over the lower half of his face, which had been starting to slip. “C’mon, it’ll be fine. I’m not going to drop you.”

Hopefully. He still wasn’t quite up to where he had been before he’d cut himself off, although the meditation sessions he’d been having instead of going to lessons with Master Kenobi had helped. Still, there was a chance he’d slip up. Not that he was going to tell the trooper that. He was scared enough as it was.

The trooper sighed in resignation before nodding. Ezra grinned encouragingly, then turned and let himself drop back to the front of the shuttle. The air was getting uncomfortably hot, now, and there was a feeling of warning building slowly in the Force. They needed to get out of here.

Above him, the trooper called out, “Ready, sir?”

Ezra reached out and gently grabbed hold of the kid. “Yeah, ready!”

A second later, the trooper dropped down. Ezra immediately forced his fall to slow until he was almost hovering in the air, his feet a few inches from the wall Ezra was standing on. To his credit, he hadn’t made a single sound, but now that Ezra could see him again, he could tell that that was because he had screwed both his mouth and his eyes shut.

Ezra let him drop the last couple of inches. The moment his feet were on the ground again, the trooper sighed in relief, only to start coughing violently as he inhaled a lung full of smoke. Ezra patted him commiseratingly on the back before ducking into the cockpit, rubbing his stinging eyes as he did. 

He had barely been paying attention earlier, but now he could see orange sand spilling into the cockpit, knocked there by the boys clambering in and out. That meant they were on a desert planet, which, after the  _ incident  _ on Tatooine, were some of Ezra’s least favorite types of planets. Seriously, there was no reason for that much heat to exist in one place. The sand was bearable--mostly, depending on how coarse it was--but the heat just sapped the energy out of him. 

Shooting a look of distaste at the sand, Ezra glanced back over at the trooper, who was pulling his helmet out from under the seat it had fallen under when he’d dropped it. “Not much of a fan of heights, are you?” He asked jokingly, and the trooper wrinkled his nose.

“Not a fan of  _ falling _ . The heights themselves don’t bother me.” The trooper coughed again, waving a hand to clear the air in front of him before securing the helmet on his head. “Shouldn’t we get out of here, Commander?”

Ezra threw his hands up in exasperation at the title before turning back to the cockpit and carefully climbing out. Wincing as the hot sand dug into his palms, he pulled himself to his feet. He blinked fiercely as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight and pulled his blacks down from his face as he tried to get his bearings.

As the spots slowly faded from his vision, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He was staring at a familiar sunset, a breathtaking splash of colors behind a coral mesa, which rose against the horizon. In the distance, he could hear the native wildlife communicating, mostly in clicks and short squeals. A hot gust of wind kicked up the sand at his feet, and he crouched down, gently brushing the ground with the tips of his fingers. Blinking hard, he tried to ignore the tears that had sprung to his eyes, but as one slipped out, he quickly wiped it away and stood, squaring his shoulders.

Master Kenobi and Cody were directing the men to set up a camp about twenty meters from the downed shuttle. Five makeshift tents had already been erected--they really didn’t have the supplies for an extended camping trip, but clones were nothing if not resourceful. The supplies were stacked in the middle of the camp, a space heater a few meters away from the stack. Somewhere in the middle of that mess, Waxer was tending to the arm of the trooper Ezra’d gotten out of the shuttle. The poor kid was already wincing, and the older clone hadn’t even reset the joint.

He turned his attention back to Kenobi, who had a datapad and holoprojector out and was scowling at the projected map of the galaxy. “The trouble is,” Ezra heard him say as he drew closer, “I know which sector we’re in, but not which system. So I have no idea if there are any native settlements that could help us with repairs.”

“There aren’t,” Ezra said, coming to stand at Kenobi’s elbow. Both the Jedi Master and Cody gave him surprised looks, and he sighed, crossing his arms across his chest. “The planet’s uninhabited, as are the rest of the planets in the system. The planet’s name is Atollon.”

Kenobi raised an eyebrow. “You know this place?”

Ezra shrugged. “Yeah, we used it as a base for a year or two. Had to abandon it when it got attacked.”

“How close is your old base?” Cody asked, and Ezra shrugged, glancing quickly at the map.

“Not sure. This planet doesn’t really have much variety in its geography, so it’d be hard to try to pick out the spot just be looking at it. Not that it’d do us any good to find it. We were able to deconstruct a lot and take it with us, and our attackers will have scooped up anything we left behind. It’s not here anymore.”

Which was true… in a round-about fashion. The base wouldn’t be here, and Ezra wasn’t sure exactly how far they were from where it had--will--would be? Force, tenses were confusing. But he did know where it had been: that coral mesa to the west of them. This was as close to home as he’d been in over a year.

Kanobi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do we always have the worst luck?” He asked rhetorically, and Cody snorted.

“Yeah. If I didn’t know better I’d say Skywalker was with us. This sort of thing happens all the time to him.”

Ezra bit his cheek hard to keep from laughing.  _ Oh, you have no idea, but you actually do have a Skywalker with you, and trust me, the bad luck is genetic., _ he thought, before glancing over his shoulder at the shuttle to hide the smile he was fighting. “Think that thing’ll fly again?” He asked.

Cody took one look at it and shook his head. “No, that thing’s fried. We need to set up the distress signal and hope the Republic picks it up, not Separatists or pirates.”

“Eh, the pirates wouldn’t be too bad. We can negotiate with them.” Ezra said with a shrug, and Kenobi fixed him with a wry look.

“You must know different pirates, then, because none of the ones we’ve encountered will negotiate unless there’s a lightsaber at their throat.”

“But you  _ can  _ negotiate with them. Try that with the Separatists, you’ll get a blaster bolt to the face immediately,” Ezra pointed out as he moved toward the heater, where Charger was sitting, watching them. Behind him, Cody grumbled as Kenobi ordered two of the troopers to set up the emergency beacon. It was almost scary how efficient everyone was at setting up emergency camps like this. Either they’d had emergency training (which was likely) or they’d been in enough situations like this to know exactly what to do (which was also likely).

Charger looked up as Ezra sat down heavily next to him. He narrowed his eyes as Ezra sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, which had gotten longer. It was starting to hang down over his forehead now, but it wasn’t in his eyes yet. Oh, well. He wasn’t sure he was going to cut it again. He wanted to do something different with it, though dyeing it was out of the question. That made him think too much of Sabine.

Charger’s voice broke through his thoughts. “So, you used to use this place as a base.”

“Yeah,” Ezra said, shooting him a small smile. “Wasn’t too bad. Underground springs for water, ships for cooling… worst part was the wildlife. Which reminds me,” he straightened, glancing around to see if he could spot any perimeter sensors in the salvaged equipment, then cursing when he didn’t see any. 

“What?” Charger asked, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing--well, not exactly. We just don’t have the equipment we normally used to keep the krykna away--that’s the wildlife,” Ezra added at Charger’s confused look. “Could be a problem later.”

Charger made a noise of understanding and shifted on the stone he was couched on. “How much of a problem?”

“Well, they’ve got thick hides, nasty tempers, and a tendency to attack in packs--oh, and they eat people. I’m sure we can handle it though,” Ezra tried hard not to grin at Charger’s horrified expression. Maybe he was making it sound a bit worse than it actually was, but who cares? Better that they overestimated the krykna than underestimated them.

Someone sat down on Ezra’s other side. A quick glance told him it was the new kid. Waxer must have gotten done treating his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind, Lieutenant, I just… didn’t know where else to go.”

Ezra shrugged, giving him a friendly half-smile. “It’s fine. Oh, and call me Ezra. Lieutenant’s just a bit too…”

“Formal?” Charger finished for him, and Ezra nodded.

“What’s your name, kid?” He asked.

The trooper blushed slightly. “CT-3108, sir. I… haven’t picked a name yet.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow. He’d never actually met a trooper who didn’t have their name yet. He knew from Rex--his Rex--that they really didn’t like being referred to as their numbers, though. “Okay. Let me know when you pick one.”

“Uh… yes, sir,” the trooper said, shooting Charger a bewildered look.

Charger grinned. “Yeah, he’s like that.” Ezra gave him a confused look, and Charger waved him off. “It’s nothing, it’s just that on Kamino, we’re told that no one but the  _ vode _ will care what we call ourselves.”

“You’re the one that said names matter,” Ezra pointed out.

“Oh, so you  _ did _ listen to me.”

“You punched me. Yeah, I listened.”

“You broke my ribs, I think that far outweighs punching you.” 

_ “Cracked. _ I  _ cracked _ your ribs, and I apologized. Seriously, Charger, I’m sorry--”

Charger cut him off with an over-exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay, enough with the guilt complex. You’re forgiven, now shut up.”

Ezra wanted to retort, but couldn’t come up with one, so he settled for smacking Charger’s shoulder instead. Glancing back over at the new kid, who was looking at them with a mildly terrified expression, Ezra grimaced. “It’s a long story. I promise I don’t just go around cracking ribs.”

The kid--Ezra really didn’t want to think of him as a string of numbers, so calling him the kid would have to do--gave them both a nervous smile. “I, uh, actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot,” Ezra said, spreading his hands in an open invitation. 

The trooper bit his lip, then asked, “What’s General Skywalker like? I know we’re going to be working with him a lot, so I kind of…”

“Want to know the lay of the land,” Charger finished for him. “Understandable. Well, I would describe Skywalker as… bold.”

“Reckless,” Ezra put in. “Easily the most oblivious tactical genius I’ve ever met.”

“Cares more about his men than himself.”

“A real pain in the  _ shebs-- _ ow!” Ezra cut himself off as pebble hit the back of his head. Whirling around, he saw Cody giving him a flat glare from across the camp. How in the name of the Force he had known Ezra was swearing was beyond him, but that didn’t stop him from flicking the pebble back and hitting Cody’s shoulder.

Turning back to the trooper, he sighed. “You’ll like him.”

** _______ **

"Crawlers!" Charger yelped, scrambling away from the hissing creature that had somehow crept up on their camp. They'd only noticed it when it had jumped at Boil, but now it--and a few of its friends, because of course Ezra hadn't been kidding about them attacking in packs--were scurrying around, lunging at anyone who got too close.

All the  _ vode  _ in the camp had their blaster out and were firing, but the bugs didn't even seem to notice. One of them barreled right through their stack of supplies, and Charger cursed as it almost barreled into him, too.

A blasterbolt came out of nowhere and pegged the crawler square in the eye, and Charger heard Ezra shout, "aim for the eyes!" But he was too busy dodging another enraged bug to make use of the advice.

Someone else must have, though, because as Charger slid behind one of the salvaged crates, another blaster bolt hit the bug in the eye. This one had come from a different direction, and Charger turned to give the pilot a grateful nod. The pilot just scowled in return and started trying to pick off the other bugs running around the camp. Hauling himself to his feet, Charger followed suit, but the bugs' eyes were so small it was difficult to get a solid hit from a distance, and getting too close made it just as easy for the bugs to kill him as it made it easy for him to kill them.

To his left he saw another one of the bugs fall, almost crushing one of the boys, and he redoubled his efforts, firing shot after shot as he slowly advanced on one of the two crawlers left. The crawler hissed and screamed as blasterbolts pounded into its body, but it refused to go down even as other clones focused their fire on it, too.

A blue blur suddenly launched itself at the bug, and it screamed again before collapsing. General Kenobi stood carefully, trying not to step on the bug he'd just killed like he was afraid it would attack again before turning to face the last of the bugs, which, seeing its dead companions, did not do the smart thing and run. Instead, it screamed in rage and threw itself at the general, who simply sidestepped and sliced, cutting the bug in half as it barrelled past him.

With the last of the bugs dead, Charger let his rifle drop from his shoulder, sighing in relief. Ezra glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow as he gave him a once-over. "All right there, Charge?"

"Never better," Charger replied, then stopped and gave him an incredulous look. "'Charge?' Really?"

"What, you can give me nicknames but I can't give you any?" Ezra shot back with a grin before nudging one of the bugs with his foot. "Almost forgot how nasty these things are."

"How in the world did you build a base here?" Cody grumbled as he stepped past another of the corpses.

Ezra shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal to be attacked by these karking monsters. "We had equipment that kept them away. And yes, Commander, I checked, we don't have anything like what we used. We're just going to have to fight them off whenever they wander too close."

General Kenobi sighed. "Well then, I suppose we'll just have to make do. Waxer, Boil, get some of the troops to help you move the tents closer together. We need a smaller perimeter. Cody, put together a watch schedule. We need at least five men on a watch at all times."

Charger stopped paying attention to the general's orders at that point and instead grabbed one of the legs of the closest bug. He started trying to drag it away from the camp, but as he tugged, something in the leg gave and the limb came free with a sickening squelch. Stumbling back a step at the unexpected lack of resistance, Charger glanced down at the limb in his hand in surprise before quickly throwing the limb away with a shudder.

A laugh over his shoulder told him that Ezra had seen that. Charger turned and glared at him. "Something funny?"

Ezra grinned at him. "The bug's already dead, and you still managed to lose a fight with it." Behind him, Charger heard the new kid trying to disguise a laugh, and he scowled harder, fighting the urge to smile at the same time. It was good to see the kid loosening up, even if he made Charger the butt of a joke sometimes.

Still, he grumbled, if only on principle. "Thing's not a bug, it's a bloody demon." He emphasized this by kicking the bug before throwing his weight at it to try to get it to move.

Ezra chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Right. A demon. Whatever you..."

Charger glanced back when Ezra trailed off, a look of dawning comprehension on his face. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "You okay over there, Commander?"

Ezra jolted as if startled, then nodded. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'm just an idiot."

"Well, I already knew that," Charger said, giving up on moving the crawler, "but what brought on this sudden revelation?"

Ezra just shook his head. "It'd take too long to explain. Hey, why don't you get some of the boys who aren't helping Waxer and Boil to help you move these things? I need to go talk to a certain cryptic someone."

Charger huffed a laugh, glancing over his shoulder at General Kenobi. "Any chance I could listen in?"

"Do you want to be hopelessly confused?" Ezra asked wryly.

Charger shook his head with a laugh. "Alright then, I'll leave the confusing Force stuff to you and the general."

As he walked away, he heard Ezra mutter, "Yeah. Confusing Force stuff," and he hoped the kid knew what he was doing.


	4. You’ll Find Every Secret It Keeps

It wasn't until nearly dawn that Obi-Wan realized something was off. The camp had been quiet, the krykna content to skitter around the edges of the camp but not come too close, and even the troops kept their conversations to a bare minimum. The still night air was punctuated only by the wind whistling through the coral mesas and the faint calls of other wildlife. Other than the soft hum of the space heater, the camp was quiet.

That's probably what got his nerves on edge in the first place. Since the war had begun, the number of quiet moments had decreased exponentially, so having one now felt like the calm before a storm rather than a break from the normal hustle and bustle. But what really tipped him off to the fact that something was wrong was Charger.

He had to commend the trooper's loyalty. He'd made it his mission to watch out for Ezra, and had somehow managed to get the young man to realize that the world hadn't ended, that there would be light at the end of the tunnel. Granted, that realization had cost Charger a broken nose and cracked ribs and Obi-Wan still didn't have the details on how that had happened, but the difference now was startling. Ezra was lighter, somehow, less burdened, although he still had that knack for getting into trouble.

That was part of the reason Obi-Wan was grateful Charger was still around. With him watching Ezra's back there was less chance of him doing something dangerous, reckless, or just plain stupid.

Which was why, when Charger asked him if he'd seen Ezra since the krykna attack earlier, alarm bells started going off in his head. He told Charger he hadn't, and the clone cursed.

"Neither have I. He said he needed to talk to you about something, though, so why didn't he?" Charger looked out over the camp, barely lit in the pre-dawn haze.

Obi-Wan stroked his beard with one hand, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the rest of the camp. "Did he say what he needed to talk to me about?"

"No," Charger replied, sounding tired. Obi-Wan sympathized. Looking after Ezra was exhausting. Whoever had done it for the last nineteen years had his respect. "In fact," Charger added quickly, looking up at Obi-Wan with wide eyes, "he didn't say specifically who he was going to talk to. Just that it was someone 'cryptic.'"

Obi-Wan heaved a sigh, then closed his eyes and reached out with the Force. The desert planet had little in the way of fauna nearby, a colony of krykna and a few odd creatures he didn't have a name for, but aside from the clones, he couldn't feel any other sentient life for miles around them.

That wasn't good. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and reached out farther, hoping to find Ezra's normally very noticeable presence. Nothing. He was about to pull his senses back when something on the edge of his consciousness grabbed his attention. A small tug, insistent but not urgent, was calling him into the desert.

Well, if that was the will of the Force... Obi-Wan sighed again and opened his eyes. "Tell Cody what's happened. If we're not back by sundown, then he can send a search party."

"Sundown?" Charger asked, surprised. "You think it'll take that long to find him?" He paused, seeming to realize how forward he was being, and added a tactful, "sir."

Obi-Wan just shrugged. "This was once his home. I wouldn't be too surprised if he's wandered off to find his old base. It might be a bit before he's ready to come back."

Charger nodded. "Yes, sir. Just.... please keep your comms on you, and call if something happens."

"Of course," Obi-Wan said before following the pull out of the camp and into the wild.

He was wary at first of the krykna, but they skittered away from him whenever he got too close, as if they were just as intimidated by his presence as he was by theirs. As much as he wanted to avoid them completely, though, he couldn't. They scurried ahead of him like they were trying to show him the way. Interesting. Maybe they could feel the pull of the Force, too. That, of course, brought up the question of where exactly they were going.

Nothing in the geography looked any different. Ezra hadn't been kidding in that there wasn't much variety. The same coral trees towered over him, and the sandy, uneven ground didn't change much. Even the growing light didn't reveal too much about his destination. He just had to have faith that the Force was leading him where he needed to go, and not into a trap.

Dawn was breaking by the time the pull lessened. Reaching out to make sure it had actually lessened and he wasn't just imagining it, he finally found the bright presence he'd been searching for. Ezra was about a half a mile away... but he wasn't alone. A massive Force presence like a black hole was there, also, dwarfing Ezra's presence. Just who--or what--that presence was, he didn't know, but it reminded him too much of the beings from Mortis for his comfort.

Now that he knew where Ezra was, he picked up his pace a bit. Ezra could have been alone with whatever the presence was for most of the night. Granted, Ezra felt... calmer than normal, incredibly still, actually, so whatever it was, he wasn't in danger from it, but it made Obi-Wan nervous all the same. His last Padawan always seemed to get into trouble whenever Obi-Wan so much as turned his back, and Ezra wasn't much better, so every instinct he had was telling him to get to Ezra now.

As he drew closer, he heard voices. Ezra's lighter one, and another that made his very bones reverberate. It was deep, powerful, and ancient, and Obi-Wan felt like he was hearing it on multiple levels. Not just physically, but mentally, and through the Force. This must be the presence.

He slowed as he reached the treeline. In front of him was a shallow crater, and in the middle of the valley was Ezra, who was sitting like he had been meditating with his back to Obi-Wan. It was what was in front of him that made his brain short-circuit. After Mortis, he thought he'd be prepared for whatever the galaxy threw at him, but he was most definitely not ready to see a towering giant on four legs looming over his Padawan. It looked like something born directly fro the planet, but its eyes were intelligent, and studded with constellations that shifted as it spoke.

It was the giant who was speaking when Obi-Wan finally started listening to what was being said. "In order to restore itself," it rumbled, "it has sent you here."

"So, what," Ezra sounded perplexed and completely unamused, "I'm supposed to bring balance to the Force?"

The giant shook its head, looking almost amused. "No, that is your father's task. Yours is much simpler, and much more difficult. You must show him  _ how." _

"How?" Ezra asked. "How am I supposed to show him how?"

You must find balance within yourself, of course," the giant answered, as if that was the simplest thing in the world. "You are trying to be a soldier, a warrior; you must also be a healer, and a diplomat. The roles of a true Jedi."

"I think I understand," Ezra's voice was soft, the difference between it and the giant's startling.

"Do you?" The giant bellowed before lowering his voice to a softer rumble. "You must balance not only your roles, but yourself. Hate with love. Anger with compassion. Generosity with selfishness. You might choose to think only of the greater good of the galaxy, but in order to be truly balanced, you must choose what you want, as well."

Ezra's reply was quiet. "What I want is impossible."

"Is it?" At the giant's words, Ezra's head snapped up. "Know this, young timewalker: you are not as alone as you would believe."

Ezra deflated a bit, clearly hoping for a less cryptic answer. "This is the part where you tell me I can find a new family, or that I already have one."

"No, this is the part where I tell you that you will not be alone in your task."

"You mean Kix, Ahsoka, and Rex," Ezra said, sounding almost pained at the last two names. Obi-Wan hadn't even considered how much their arguments must be weighing on him, and he pursed his lips. He needed to find out exactly what they'd argued about.

Actually, he needed to find out what exactly Ezra and this thing were talking about first. They were talking about bringing balance to the Force and how that was Ezra's father's job, but that wasn't right. Bringing balance to the Force was Anakin's job as the Chosen One. Also, why were Rex, Kix, and Ahsoka in on whatever self-assigned task Ezra was talking about, but not Charger, or himself? None of this made any sense.

Unfortunately, the conversation was not waiting for him to catch up. The giant continued as if he had no idea how big a headache he was giving Obi-Wan. "And your new Master; they will all be invaluable in your fight against the Sith."

"Yeah, but then I'd have to explain..." Ezra trailed off, gesturing at the world around him in general before finding the words again, "everything to Master Kenobi before he could or would help."

The giant hummed, amusement clear on its face as it finally turned its attention to Obi-Wan, pinning him in place with its large eyes. When it spoke, though, it was still speaking to Ezra. "I would not worry about that, young timewalker. He already knows more than you suspect."

Obi-Wan could see the exact moment Ezra realized what it meant. He stiffened and slowly turned around, only to grimace and close his eyes when he saw Obi-Wan. "Karabast," he muttered, and although he wasn't overly familiar with the word, he knew a curse when he heard one.

"Karabast, indeed," he drawled. "Care to explain what the two of you are gossiping about?"

Ezra quickly turned to look behind him at the giant, but in the time it had taken him to turn around--in the time it had taken for Obi-Wan to blink--the giant had vanished. Ezra didn't seem too surprised by it, but he slumped nevertheless before climbing slowly to his feet. "I hate it when he does that," he muttered before giving Obi-Wan a wry grin. "Do you want to sit up there and talk, or sit down here? Because this is going to take a while."

_______

They ended up using two boulders in the little crater as chairs. Ezra had managed to gather some firewood, so now there was a small campfire burning merrily between them, its crackling the only sound in the valley.

Finally, Ezra broke the silence with a sigh. "So, how much of that did you hear?"

Obi-Wan leveled an unimpressed look at him. "Enough."

Ezra sighed, looking up at the sky like he was hoping someone would drop a walker on his head and kill him right then and there. "I wasn't asking so I'd know how much I could get away with lying about, I was asking so I'd know how much I need to summarize for you."

"Oh," Obi-Wan said, settling back on his boulder. "That... Force-wielder you were talking to was saying something about sending you somewhere." Ezra furrowed his brow, and Obi-Wan added, "right after that, you said something about bringing balance to the Force?"

Ezra's expression cleared and he nodded, sighing. "All right, yeah, I know when that was." He glanced up at Obi-Wan with a sheepish look. "You're going to have to start off. I know you've got questions, ask away. I'm not sure where to start otherwise."

Obi-Wan nodded, considering his first question for a moment. Finally, he asked, "Who was that?"

Ezra wrinkled his nose, looking unhappy. "That was the Bendu. Not my favorite person ever. I mean, I thought the Jedi were cryptic, but he's worse. I think I got maybe three straight answers out of him tonight, and that's being generous. Also, he has a habit of using the krykna to teach lessons. Not my favorite way of learning."

Obi-Wan hummed before asking his next question. "He called you timewalker."

Ezra grimaced. "Yeah." At Obi-Wan's raised eyebrow, he sighed. "I... sort of am? A timewalker, I mean. I kind of, accidentally, may have thrown myself into my past."

Obi-Wan stared for a minute. That wasn't possible. There had never, in the history of the Order, been a recorded case of a Jedi--of any Force-user, really--time-traveling. But Ezra sounded sincere, and the Force wasn't contradicting him. He really, honestly was from the future. But if he was from the future, and the Force had sent him back, then something terrible must happen. Ezra wouldn't be throwing himself into the war if he didn't care about its outcome, if he thought they were going to win.

"We lose the war." Obi-Wan didn't phrase it as a question, but Ezra still nodded.

"Yeah. Badly." He looked down at the fire, pain shining in his eyes. "There are people that keep fighting, but... the Empire, the Sith--they take over and rule the galaxy through sheer power. Most people are too afraid to fight back, for years... it's nearly a decade and a half before an organized rebellion actually comes together."

Obi-Wan didn't quite know what he was expecting to hear, just that it wasn't that. The Sith? An Empire? Just how long had the galaxy suffered before the Force had intervened? And why send Ezra? He felt like his head was spinning from the unanswered questions.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan steadied himself before asking, "How far into the future are you from?"

"I got sent twenty years into my past," Ezra answered, still not looking up from the fire, "so if you do the math, I'm not even born yet. That's also why the Jedi never found me as a child. They were wiped out--most of them, anyway--at the end of the war."

It took a moment to sink in, but when it did, it hit him hard. Shock. Horror. It was probably a good thing Anakin was a couple of sectors away or he'd definitely be able to feel what Obi-Wan was projecting. The Order was wiped out. All of them, dead. The Republic which they had sworn to protect, gone. Everything Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka had fought for was destroyed.

Oh, Sithspawn. Anakin and Ahsoka. If most of the Jedi were wiped out, what were the chances that either of them survived?

"Who all survived?" He managed in a husky voice.

Ezra finally looked up at him, a mixture of pity and sorrow shining in his eyes. "Ahsoka made it. So did you and Master Yoda. A few other Padawans... I met four survivors. That's it."

Obi-Wan stood and turned away from the fire, covering his face with one hand. Anakin. His first Padawan, his friend. Mace Windu. Quinlan. All the bright-eyed Younglings in the Temple. None of them made it. It was just him, Yoda, Ahsoka... whoever else made it through the apocalypse at the end of the war. That was it.

Obi-Wan took a shuddering breath. "How do we stop it?" He asked without turning back around.

Behind him, he heard Ezra shift uncomfortably. "Do things differently." Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder, leveling a disbelieving look at Ezra, who spread his hands helplessly. "I'm sorry, that's literally all the advice Bendu gave me. Last time, Anakin didn't 'bring balance to the Force' because of the Sith's interference. This time it'll be different."

"Because you're here," Obi-Wan made no attempt to hide the disbelief in his voice as he started pacing.

Ezra curled his lip ever so slightly. "Believe it or not, I'm not as helpless as you think." At Obi-Wan's raised eyebrow, he huffed a quick laugh. "What, you think I could have met four survivors of the Jedi Purge and not walked away with at least a little training?"

Obi-Wan's other eyebrow shot up to join the first. "You've been trained?"

Ezra nodded like it should have been obvious. "Yeah. Three out of the four survivors all taught me a bit, although one of them taught me significantly more than the others."

"And those three were?"

"Aunt 'Soka, Yoda, and one of the Padawans who escaped the Purge."

Obi-Wan stopped abruptly. "Aunt 'Soka?"

Ezra winced and nodded. "Sorry. Force of habit. I'm just glad I haven't called the younger Ahsoka that by accident. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I told you about my aunt? That was who I was talking about."

Obi-Wan sank onto the boulder, not caring that it was uncomfortable and getting warm now that the sun was starting to shine on it. "You said your aunt died."

"I thought she had for a few years, then it turned out she hadn't. Whenever I was referring to the fact that she was gone, it... was in reference to the fact that she's not here and I am." Ezra's tone became more reluctant the longer he spoke, like he didn't want to drag those facts into the light.

Obi-Wan heaved a sigh, relief flooding through his veins. Ahsoka made it. Then came confusion. Uncertainty. Heartbreaking realization. If Ahsoka made it, and he himself made it, why didn't Anakin? The only thing he could think of was that Anakin had sacrificed himself to make sure they got away, and the thought was enough to make his breath freeze in his chest.

"How did Ahsoka and I survive when Anakin didn't?" He asked aloud, afraid to know the answer.

If Ezra had been grimacing in discomfort before, he looked downright pained now. "You would ask that," he muttered, turning his attention back to the fire and clearing his throat. "Anakin wasn't killed. He was betrayed, like the rest of the Order, but the Sith didn't kill him."

Obi-Wan looked down, not sure how to feel. Relief that Anakin hadn't died? Grief that he had ended up in the clutches of the Sith? Anger at himself for leaving Anakin there? Ezra's next words told him exactly what to feel.

"The Sith convinced him to Fall instead."

Obi-Wan looked up, shooting Ezra a dark look as his hand closed instinctively around his 'saber. "That's not possible. Anakin would never Fall. He would never betray the Order--" _ betray me _ , he wanted to say, but he couldn't because this was bigger than that "--and he would never break the Code!" Even as he said it, he knew that was false, he knew that Anakin had already broken it for Padme, but this… this was so much more than that.

Ezra raised both eyebrows, barking a disbelieving laugh. "I'm literally living proof that he would."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask what the hell Ezra meant by that, but the words died on his lips as the answer dawned on him. "No," he breathed, and Ezra shot him a sympathetic look--a look that was all Padme. That softness around the eyes, the wry half-smile--it was exactly the same.

"Yeah," was all Ezra said. "That's why he Fell, actually. Sidious convinced Anakin that Padme was going to die giving birth to me and the only way to save her was to use the Dark Side.... and I'm sure you can guess how that turned out."

"Did she...?" Obi-Wan almost didn't want to know. It would have been bad enough that Ezra's father--that Anakin--Fell to the Dark Side, but if Padme had died, too, if the younger man had been raised an orphan... No wonder the boy was afraid to get close to anyone.

Ezra gave a minute shake of his head as he prodded the campfire with a long stick. "She didn't make it. I did. Obviously. I don't think Sidious ever meant for her to survive, even after Anakin joined him. But I also don't think he knew I survived. He knew I existed, but only as Ezra Bridger. He didn't know about the Skywalker part of things."

It was all too much. Just when he was sure there wouldn't be any more, Ezra added something else to the already unbearably weight on his soul. Numbly, he asked, "Bridger?" and Ezra grimaced again. Now that Obi-wan knew to look for it, he could see shades of Anakin in that expression, but where Anakin managed to make it look almost playful, on Ezra it looked tired and full of pain. He was only a few years younger than Anakin, but he already had the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

"I only took the last name Jarrus after I got thrown back in time. The Bridgers were the family that raised me until I was seven, but since they're still alive at this point in time, I didn't want to lead the Sith right to them. Or the Order. Or the Separatists. It would have been bad," Ezra explained.

"And the name Jarrus wouldn't have led any of them to anyone?" Obi-Wan asked, only slightly curious.

Ezra shook his head. "It was the name my Master used, and he made it up. He hasn't taken it yet, so, no, it won't lead to anyone. And it, you know, keeps him close."

Obi-Wan nodded, but didn't ask anymore questions. His mind felt numb, like it had been filled to the brim and was now refusing to even start processing anything Ezra had just told him. He needed air, honestly. He felt like he was drowning.

Realizing how close he was to collapsing because he actually wasn't breathing correctly, he clenched his jaw and forced himself to do a few breathing exercises. In, out. Slowly. This was fine.  _ There is no emotion. _ This was totally fine.  _ No passion, serenity. _ It was just the end of the galaxy as he knew it sometime in the near future.  _ No chaos, harmony. _ He shoved down the rising panic and tried to focus on anything except the nausea making his stomach churn.

Realizing he was clenching the fabric of his robe, he forced his hand to relax. He needed to calm down, look at this logically. They needed a plan, some way of keeping Anakin from Falling. Maybe if they found the Sith Lord and stopped him before--before when? How long did they have? If Ezra was right and Anakin Fell about the time he was born, they had a year at most. Less than that, actually, because Ezra was nineteen and had been sent twenty years into the past--almost five months ago. That left maybe half a year before the Order fell, and the galaxy along with it.

Looking over at Ezra, he opened his mouth to ask if he actually had a plan, but stopped when he saw the boy. He was sitting, eyes closed, in a loose lotus position, the Force singing softly around him. Surprised, he asked, “What are you doing?”

Ezra opened one eye to glance at him, looking slightly amused. “Um, meditating? You weren’t talking, so I thought I’d give you some time to process.”

That wasn’t quite why Obi-Wan had asked. He was more wondering how Ezra knew how to meditate, but he realized it was probably one of the first things the survivors had taught him. Which, of course, led him to his next question. 

“How much training have you had?”

Ezra closed his eye again and grimaced. “A lot. Mostly combat and Force techniques, not much theory or history or whatever. But enough that I think my Master would have knighted me soon. I think, I don’t actually know, but he hinted at it.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, resting his chin on one hand as he watched the younger man meditate. It was obvious how easily this came to him, connecting to the Force. It curled around him and washed through him like an old friend, and he sank into with the familiarity that only came through repeated practice. 

He sighed and decided to keep asking questions now that Ezra was finally in a sharing mood. “Your Master was one of the surviving Padawans?” He already knew the answer, but it was as good a place to start as any. 

Ezra sighed heavily and opened his eyes, shifting position so that one of his knees was pulled up to his chest. “Yeah. I think you’ve met him--Caleb Dume? He told me that you made a guest appearance in one of his classes.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I remember him. I believe Master Billaba recently took him on as her Padawan. I do hope she has the patience for him, he’s very inquisitive.” Ezra gave a soft laugh, looking down at the fire with a sad smile. Obi-Wan matched his expression, trying to convey some sort of sympathy. “He’s very intelligent. Even gave me an idea about the beacon at the Jedi Temple--”

“--And using it to warn the Jedi away. Yeah, I know.” Ezra glanced up at him, a wry edge to his smile as he straightened, folding his hands like he was tucking them into the sleeves of a robe. “‘This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi,’” he recited in a passable imitation. “‘I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic, have fallen.’ I’ve heard that spiel a couple of times. It works, in case you were wondering.”

Obi-Wan nodded, but now the fall of the Order was on his mind again and he asked his original question. “Do you have a plan to stop it from happening?”

Ezra didn’t ask what he meant, but he didn’t really need to. There was only one thing he could be talking about after all. “Yeah. Well, sort of. It’s more of an idea than actual step-by-step instructions. Basically, to keep the Order from falling, we have to keep General Skywalker from Falling, which means we need to give him a support system so he doesn’t go running to the Sith when he thinks Padme’s in danger.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Hey,” Ezra sat up straight, looking defiant. “You’d be surprised how much a good support system helps. I know the Jedi have never been big on that kind of thing, but Skywalker wasn’t raised as a Jedi, he’s not used to that. I’m the same way, so trust me when I say that it’s when we’re alone that we’re most vulnerable.”

His words made Obi-Wan stiffen. He knew Ezra was afraid of Falling--and now he knew why, he was afraid of becoming the same monster Anakin had--but he hadn’t realized that Ezra had had a brush with the Dark Side. With a quiet sigh, he realized he’d have to bow to Ezra’s experience on this matter. “All right. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Era sat back with a soft huff. “You could try actually being there,” he muttered, surprising Obi-Wan with the amount of bitterness in those six words.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Ezra replied quickly and unconvincingly.

Obi-Wan fixed him in place with a stern look. “I believe you told the Bendu you’d tell me everything. Whatever I’ve done that angered you falls under that category.”

Ezra groaned, his scowl deepening. “It’s not what you’ve done, it’s what you will do--from your perspective, at least. From mine it already happened.” He paused long enough to push the hair out of his face again, then said, “After Or--the Order fell and Padme died, you hid me on a planet in the Outer Rim. Gave me to a family that raised me and loved me. All well and good, nothing I wouldn’t have done. Except when they were arrested, and I was left on my own, you weren’t there. Your best friend’s son, and you couldn’t bother staying in the same system to make sure I made it through my childhood  _ alive.  _

“I almost didn’t, you know. There were several times when I went to sleep at night thinking I wouldn’t wake up in the morning. But you never knew that. Or you never cared. Instead you were lazing around on Tatooine of all places. And then, to top it all off, when we were busy fighting for the Rebellion, you weren’t there. You let the galaxy keep thinking you were dead while some of us were  _ actually  _ dying. So, yeah, I’m just a bit bitter.”

‘Just a bit’ really didn’t cover the acerbic tone he used to spit out his words. And honestly, Obi-Wan didn’t blame him. Why in the world would he abandon Anakin’s son? And if the galaxy was under the rule of a Sith, why would he have rolled over and stopped fighting? 

“Did I ever tell you why?” He asked quietly, then frowned. “Did you ever even meet me?”

Ezra snorted, like he thought it was funny that Obi-Wan had that low of an opinion of himself. “Once. And no, you didn’t. Just said it was the ‘will of the Force’ or something like that. Like dumping me on a random family was perfectly excusable if you could blame something else for that decision. The only good things that came out of that encounter were that you made me tell my new family about Anakin Falling, I found out how and why he Fell, and you killed--oh, karking Sithspawn.” Ezra cut himself off with a vicious curse. 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. Ezra had been nearly ranting before, but now his anger sharpened, going from general frustration to actual rage. It was alarming, honestly, how quickly Ezra turned to anger, but at the same time, he realized he’d never felt anything truly dark from the younger man, like he’d figured out how to feel his emotions without letting them control him. If that was the case, no wonder his Master had been on the verge of knighting him. There were several Jedi masters who never quite mastered that skill.

“What?” He asked when he realized Ezra wasn’t going to voluntarily explain his outburst. 

Ezra shook his head, a scowl on his face. “Nothing, I just remembered a certain  _ cockroach _ is still alive, he just hasn’t crawled out of the woodwork yet. So we’ll have that to look forward to.” As he spoke, he slumped slightly, the anger draining out of him once again. With a huff, he dragged a hand over his face, suddenly looking tired. “This is exhausting, you know? Trying to remember what has happened, what will happen, and what we need to stop from happening--I really need to write it down somewhere.”

Obi-Wan felt a small, wry smile tugging at his mouth. “Why haven’t you?”

“Because I didn’t want anyone finding it,” Ezra answered. “I mean, can you imagine how many questions that would raise? ‘Uh, what’s this about a campaign on Umbara,’ or, ‘hey why do you have something about bombing the Jedi Temple?’”

“Bombing the Jedi Temple?” Obi-Wan repeated, alarmed. 

Ezra winced. “That’s exactly what I mean. It’d raise questions.”

“Noted, but bombing the Temple?” Obi-Wan knew he sounded somewhat hysterical, but who would--or could--bomb the Temple? That was supposed to be their sanctuary, somewhere the Sith and Separatists couldn’t reach.

Ezra looked down at the dying fire, uncomfortable. “It hasn’t happened yet, and probably won’t happen for a while. Not for another couple months at least. And that’s if it happens. But yeah, that’s one of the incidents that has to change this time around. Stuff happens, and… Ahsoka ends up on her own. Nothing,” he added quickly, “happens to Anakin, but… well, it just--it can’t happen again.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “You should make that list,” he said after a minute, “and maybe make a second that I can look at. It doesn’t have to be a complete one, just a general timeline to give me an idea of what I can do without you.”

Ezra sighed, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll get started on it when we get back to--”

The roar of a ship’s engine passing overhead and he looked up hopefully. Obi-Wan followed his gaze, but as he watched the saucer-shaped ship approaching their campsite, he groaned, not even trying to hide how much he was  _ not  _ looking forward to this.

Ezra looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “What? It’s a ship, we can get off this planet.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said reluctantly as he stood, “but it’s pirates. And these particular pirates are rather… annoying.”

Ezra got up slowly, stretching before kicking dirt over the remaining embers of the fire, which had been dying slowly over the last few minutes. “Well, they can hardly be worse than Hondo. Let’s go.”

Obi-Wan stopped and stared. “It  _ is _ Hondo.”

“What, seriously?” Ezra asked, whirling around. At Obi-Wan’s nod, he gave a quick laugh. “Wow, he wasn’t kidding about knowing a Jedi, then. That’s hilarious. Of all the pirates I happened to have befriended…” Ezra left the thought hanging as he took off toward the camp, Obi-Wan following closely behind.

The journey back to the camp took considerably less time now, with Ezra sprinting ahead. He had to be using the Force to increase his speed, there was no way he was making this time on his own. Obi-Wan certainly wasn’t. He envied the boy’s agility though, as he effortlessly ducked under coral trees and leapt over obstacles without breaking stride. He wasn’t slowing down for anything.

Obi-Wan understood his urgency. Even though he knew Hondo--and apparently Ezra did, too--there was no way he was leaving his own men at the mercy of some of the most ruthless pirates in the galaxy. Actually, he wasn’t leaving his men at Hondo’s mercy  _ because _ he knew the ambitious pirate.

Even with the assistance of the Force, it took them almost half an hour to reach the outskirts of the camp. The ship had already landed by the time they could see it, and as they reached the top of a hill to look down at the camp, they could see the troopers and pirates locked in a stalemate, both sides pointing blasters at the other. There were significantly fewer pirates, but they also had a ship with working guns, so the troopers didn’t dare open fire, and the pirates--from experience--knew better than to engage with a company of clones without a lot more backup.

Obi-Wan was about to draw his ‘saber and leap into the camp to even out the odds a bit, but Ezra grabbed his arm and pulled him down so that they were both hiding behind the crest of the hill. “Wait,” the boy hissed, “we can end this without bloodshed, but you go in there, ‘saber swinging, and someone’s going to die.”

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, but clipped his lightsaber back to his belt. “Very well. What do you suggest?”

Ezra didn’t answer. He just closed his eyes and reached out with the Force. Obi-Wan couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing at first, he could just feel the Force shifting around him, but then the hissing of the krykna sounded all around the camp. Below them, the troopers tightened their hold on their blasters, glancing nervously at their surroundings, while the pirates lowered theirs, looking confused.

A single krykna crept out of the coral woods nearby and moved slowly but menacingly toward the stand-off, hissing softly. Obi-Wan tracked its progress slowly, resting a hand on Ezra’s shoulder and squeezing when the giant bug got too close to the troopers.

Ezra batted his hand away without opening his eyes. “Quit it. I’m trying to focus over here.”

Obi-Wan reluctantly removed his hand, grabbing hold of his ‘saber as more krykna crawled out of the surrounding terrain and encircled the pirates, who were looking more nervous now that they were surrounded by giant bugs, who hissed and clicked furiously as they shifted in place.

The troopers mostly looked confused. Obi-Wan really couldn’t blame them. He’d tried connecting to the creatures when they’d attacked earlier, to no avail. But here Ezra was, effortlessly urging them to protect instead of attack. In the back of his mind, Obi-Wan made a mental note to test just how much training Ezra had had as soon as they got back to the  _ Negotiator. _

In the middle of the group of pirates, a single Weequay stepped forward, his long coat swishing in the hot desert wind. “Kenobi? I know you’re there! I recognize your men!” Hondo didn’t sound scared, exactly, but there was a slight tremor in his voice as he yelled at the otherwise quiet landscape.

Beside him, Ezra opened his eyes and snickered. “Stars, he’s so young. Like a baby.” Turning to Obi-Wan, he raised an eyebrow. “Well? Aren’t you going to go say hi?”

Obi-Wan deliberately didn’t roll his eyes, although it was a near thing. Standing, he brushed the dirt off of his robe before casually making his way down to the stand-off. Trusting Ezra to keep the krykna from attacking, he didn’t bother sidestepping the creatures. Sure enough, they skittered away from him, like he was the one they were afraid of, rather than the other way around.

Giving Hondo a congenial smile, he said, “Oh, hello, Hondo. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Kenobi!” Hondo stepped forward with a grin, spreading his arms like he wanted a hug, but he quickly backed down when one of the krykna screeched a warning. “Er, uh, what brings you all the way out here?”

“Oh, we had some business on Dornea that needed to be sorted. What about you? We’re a long way from Florrum.” Obi-Wan kept the smile firmly on his face, refusing to twitch or smirk in amusement at the krykna’s reaction. 

“Oh, you know,” Hondo gestured vaguely with his blaster. “Searching for profit and plunder. Business as usual, you understand.”

Amused, Obi-Wan nodded. “Of course. And you picked up our distress beacon and thought we were easy pickings?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement behind one of the hills, but he ignored it, focusing on Hondo’s broad--and completely fake--smile.

“Ah, you know me so well. I don’t suppose you--”

“We have nothing valuable with us, Hondo, you should know by now that we Jedi never carry money, and it’s not like we were aboard a cargo freighter.” Obi-Wan said, forcing himself to focus on Hondo as Ezra crept out from behind the ship. He must have crept around the camp while they were talking. Behind him, he heard one of the troopers--most likely Charger--inhale sharply, but otherwise no one reacted even as Ezra pulled out his blaster.

Hondo stayed blissfully unaware. “Ah, such a pity. So how do you plan on bargaining for passage of this little dust-ball?” He asked with a cheerful smile, which quickly transformed into a fearful look as he felt Ezra’s blaster press against the back of his skull.

“How ‘bout your life?” Ezra said in an equally cheerful voice. Instantly all the other pirates moved to point their weapons at Ezra, but the krykna all simultaneously lunged forward and knocked the pirates onto their backs. “Yeah, sorry. You guys aren’t part of this discussion. Now,” he pressed the barrel of his blaster a little harder into the back of Hondo’s head, but Obi-Wan could see from where he was that his finger wasn’t even in the trigger guard. He wasn’t planning on shooting. “Let’s discuss this like civilized beings.”

Hondo raised his hands, nodding at his men to throw their weapons away, which they reluctantly did. Ezra nodded at the troopers, telling them to do the same.

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan said dryly. That could have gone a lot worse, and with weapons out of the way, it would be much easier to negotiate. “Now, if you would put yours away, Lieutenant?”

“Eh,” Ezra said, shrugging one shoulder. “I’ll put one away.” A pulse shuddered through the Force, and the krykna slowly turned and skittered away. Ezra tapped Hondo’s head with the barrel of his blaster. “This one stays out.”

Hondo watched the krykna scuttle away, then burst out laughing. “Oh, Kenobi, I like this one!”

Obi-Wan sighed internally. Ezra would somehow manage to impress a pirate by threatening him. He had to admit that the thing with the krykna was impressive, though, and the ruthless act seemed to be working. At least, he hoped it was just an act. The finger outside the trigger guard told him it was, but the edge to Ezra’s voice made him wonder.

“Well, then,” was all he said, though, as he gestured to the crates around the camp. “Shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be completely clear, Ezra had absolutely no intention of shooting Hondo... but given both what Obi-Wan had told him about trying to negotiate with pirates, and what Hondo himself had told him, he knew he couldn't hope to convince Hondo to help them without pulling a weapon. As for the krykna, that as just Ezra showing off.


	5. Forgiveness Is a Lesson He Cursed You to Learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter, I realized that the timeline for this fic does not match up at all to the canon timeline. Some of it was intentional--you might notice that this chapter kicks off the Zygerria/Kadavo arc, and Umbara hasn't happened yet--some of it was not. For instance, there's maybe three and a half, four months before Empire Day, and the Wrong Jedi arc hasn't happened. So, yeah, the timeline is all sorts of screwed, but I don't really care. Just thought I should mention it.  
> As per usual, I really do have to thank every one of you guys for leaving comments and/or kudos, you have no idea how happy it makes me to see that you guys are enjoying the story. So thank you.

They were late. Normally, Ahsoka would be worrying out of her mind, because her Grandmaster was never late, but this time she was just relieved that it meant she didn’t have to come face -to-face with Ezra yet. 

Anakin, however, was about one hour away from hitting full-blown panic mode. He’d been pacing the bridge since Master Obi-Wan missed the rendezvous above Kiros. They’d landed on the planet and found that the colonists were missing, but now they had to wait for Obi-Wan to arrive so they could hunt down the Zygerrians, and Anakin was driving everyone nuts as he kept asking if they had made contact yet. He had his hands clasped behind his back to keep from fidgeting--or at least, fidgeting noticeably. She could hear the leather of his gloves crinkling as he quietly wrung his hands. 

“Where are they?” Anakin asked no one in particular as he turned on his heel again. 

“On their way here, Master, calm down,” Ahsoka said for the fifth time.

Anakin squirmed slightly as he glanced at the holotable again. “Calm? I’m calm. I’m totally calm.” He paused, then whirled around again and headed up to the front of the bridge. “Obi-Wan’s never late, though, and he would have commed if he ran into trouble.”

In the back of her mind, Ahsoka thought it was slightly funny that he was acting like the impatient Padawan while she was being calm and collected (not really, the dread churning in her gut was making her feel nauseous) but before she could remind Anakin that Obi-Wan was in fact an adult and could take care of himself, a ship dropped out of hyperspace in front of them.

It was very obviously not Master Kenobi’s ship, that was the first thing she noticed. The second thing she noticed was that it was Hondo Ohnaka’s ship. The third thing was that a light had come on on the holotable, indicating an incoming call.

Anakin noticed the light at the same time and ran over to the table, only taking a quick second to compose himself before answering the call. 

Immediately a hologram version of Ahsoka’s Grandmaster was smirking down at them.  _ “Sorry about the wait. Your bad luck with ships seems to have rubbed off on us.” _

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said with a sigh of relief. “Is everyone alright? What happened to your ship?”

_ “It crashed. The pilot has a minor concussion, and one of the boys dislocated his shoulder, but otherwise we’re fine.” _

Relieved, Ahsoka stepped forward so that Obi-Wan could see her, too. “Good. Mind telling us why you’re on Hondo’s ship?”

_ “He answered our distress beacon and we managed to batter for safe passage.” _ Obi-Wan’s reply was dry, a twitch of his lips mostly hidden behind his beard giving away his amusement.

Anakin frowned. “How? With what?”

_ “Absolutely nothing, Skywalker!”  _ Hondo yelled over the comm.  _ “I’m being totally ripped off!” _

Obi-Wan acted like he hadn’t heard the pirate.  _ “We came to a mutually beneficial agreement. And, no, we’re not paying him anything.” _

Anakin shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “And that’s why they call you the Negotiator.”

_ “Actually, this one was all Ezra. He and Hondo have… bonded…” _ Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder at the last word, glaring at something off-screen.  _ “No, you may not keep that. Give it back.” _ Turning back to Anakin, he sighed, crossing his arms.  _ “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get Ezra off the ship before Hondo decides to kidnap him.” _

Anakin looked somewhere between amused and alarmed. “How’d that happen? I thought Hondo didn’t like anyone. Except you, although Force only knows why.”

Obi-Wan gave Anakin an exhausted look.  _ “He held a blaster to his head.” _

Ahsoka choked. “He what?”

Anakin pinched his brow, clearly wondering if this was how Obi-Wan felt when he and Ahsoka gave their reports. Probably so. “All right, just… dock at airlock three. We’ll meet you there.”

Obi-Wan nodded before the holo cut out and the pirates’ frigate came around to dock. Anakin shook his head in exasperation, muttering something about trouble and Ezra. Unsurprisingly, those two things often went hand-in-hand when he came up in conversation. He marched quickly to the door, only turning around when he noticed that Ahsoka wasn’t right behind him.

“You coming, Snips?” He asked, and she hesitated.

“I thought I’d stay and man the bridge,” she said, hoping he’d let her avoid seeing Ezra for a bit longer.

No such luck. “Admiral Yularen has the bridge. C’mon, let’s not keep them waiting.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes but reluctantly followed. It wasn’t that Anakin didn’t know that she was trying to avoid Ezra--he knew, and was doing his best to make them make up, which in his mind meant making them spend time together until they either mutually agreed to pretend the argument hadn’t happened or they talked it out. 

She understood what he was trying to do, she just wished he’d stay out of it. They’d get over it on their own time, but she couldn’t be on the same ship as him right now without feeling his eyes on the back of her head, like he was waiting for her to drop everything and leave. He probably was. He certainly seemed to be expecting her to abandon her friends at the drop of a hat. She wouldn’t, though, not this time. Whatever had possessed her to do so last time wasn’t going to do the same now. She would stay by Anakin’s side or die trying to, and kriff anyone who thought otherwise.

With that thought, she straightened, a new determination making her square her shoulders. Anakin glanced at her but didn’t comment.

The ship had already docked and the boys from the 212th had mostly disembarked. Anakin and Ahsoka had to wade through the crowd in the narrow airlock to see Hondo, Obi-Wan, and Ezra standing at the airlock proper. Hondo was still technically in his ship, leaning casually against the frame as he gesticulated wildly, probably in the midst of one of his infamous stories. Obi-Wan had an expression of forced politeness, but Ezra was actually smiling. He glanced their way as they got closed, though, and he sobered slightly.

“Well,” he said, interrupting Hondo, who didn’t even look offended, “I think General Skywalker wants us to finish our business and let you get back to yours. It was good to meet you, Hondo.” 

Anakin looked surprised. No one liked Hondo. Literally, no one. But Ezra… well. But Ezra. He’d been refusing to follow the rules since they had met him.

Hondo just grinned. “Of course! I’ll let you get back to saving the galaxy. You know, if you ever decide to stop being a soldier…”

“I’ll give pirating a try,” Ezra promised, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He extended a hand for Hondo to shake, but the pirate ignored it and went straight for a hug. “Oof! Okay,” Ezra huffed, patting Hondo’s back, “easy on the ribs, please.”

Hondo pulled away with a laugh. “Of course, of course. But you will comm me.”

“‘Course,” Ezra promised, now letting a grin creep across his face. Lifting a hand, he showed something to Hondo. “How else am I supposed to return this?”

Instantly Hondo patted one of his pockets. “How did you--oh, I knew I liked you! See you again soon, Ezra, Kenobi!” With that, he hit a button on his side of the door, and it slid closed.

Obi-Wan turned to give an exasperated look at Ezra. “What is that?”

Ezra didn’t answer, just tossed what looked like a pendant of some kind to him before turning, offering a halfhearted salute to Anakin and promptly disappearing into the crowd of clones gathered outside the airlock.

Anakin watched him go with an amused smile. “Still giving you trouble, huh?”

“And a massive headache every time I talk to him,” Obi-Wan answered as he pocketed the trinket. “Honestly, he’s more trouble than you were.”

Ahsoka fought a bitter smile. Oh, he had no idea just how much of a headache he could be. Or how much or why he disliked being compared to Anakin.

Anakin sighed. “How’s his training going?”

“It’s...going. He’s made remarkable progress, actually. I need to put a lightsaber in his hands at some point.” Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin and sighed, looking tired and somewhat wary. “How’ve things been here?” 

“Good, mostly, until we got here. We checked out the colony and everyone’s missing. Obi-Wan--” Anakin looked like he wanted to lean against Obi-Wan, but he held himself back, knowing how Obi-Wan was about physical affection “--it was Zygerrian slavers. They took the colonists. 

“Master Yoda gave us the go-ahead to go to Zygerria to see if we can find them; we were just waiting for you to arrive.” Anakin said as he left the airlock, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan trailing behind. Obi-Wan had a pained look on his face, though Ahsoka didn’t quite know why. She guessed it had something to do with Anakin’s rather extreme reaction to finding out that slavers were involved. Outside the airlock, the clones had mostly dispersed, but Cody was waiting for the Jedi and fell in step behind them as they made their way to the bridge.

Anakin’s comm pinged before they got halfway there.  _ “General Skywalker,” _ Admiral Yularen said,  _ “the pirate ship has disconnected and is preparing to jump to hyperspace.” _

“Very good, Admiral,” Anakin replied. “Prepare to make our jump; we’ll be on the bridge shortly.” He switched off the comm and gestured for the others to follow him--as if Ahsoka didn’t know the ship like the back of her hand--but Obi-Wan raised a hand to stop him.

“I should go make sure my men are settling in appropriately,” he said.

Anakin nodded. “Of course. If you can, tell Ezra that Kix wanted him to stop by the medbay. Something about a checkup?”

Obi-Wan nodded and turned down a different hallway. Ahsoka watched him go, wondering what exactly Kix wanted to talk to Ezra about. She knew he was the only one of the three who knew that hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Ezra in private before he had left for the  _ Negotiator, _ but he also had been the only one who hadn’t really seemed that upset. With a shake of her head, she decided it really didn’t matter and turned to follow Anakin to the bridge.

In the elevator up to the bridge, Anakin sighed heavily. “Look, Ahsoka..” and she braced herself for a lecture. “I won’t pretend to know what you and Ezra argued about--”

Ahsoka cut him off with a groan and let the back of her head hit the wall behind her. “I am not having this conversation with you. What we talked about doesn’t concern you.” That was a total lie. Anakin’s name might not have been mentioned per se, but they’d been skating around it. Well,  _ he’d _ skated around it, when he’d blamed her for leaving Anakin to Fall.

Anakin looked at her sympathetically. “Okay, maybe not, but if you two can’t work it out, it could cause issues. I mean, imagine if Obi-Wan and I couldn’t work together.”

“Okay, but imagine for a moment that Obi-Wan lied to you. For weeks on end, he kept a secret that affected you and when it came out, he didn’t apologize for lying and instead somehow turned it around to blame you. Can you honestly say that you wouldn’t be upset?”

Anakin started to say something, but cut himself off and groaned. “Alright, yes, I’d be upset. Happy?”

“No,” Ahsoka said, a bitter smile on her face, “I’m upset.”

Anakin barked a quick laugh and turned back to face the door as it slid open onto the bridge. Ahsoka didn’t follow him as he went to stand in front of the viewports, crossing her arms as she waited for the doors to slide closed again. The ship jolted as it jumped into hyperspace and she caught a glimpse of the stars outside streaking past them before the doors shut. She hit the button that would take her to the deck with the medbay.

Sighing, she kneaded her forehead. Anakin had been right about one thing: she and Ezra needed to talk. There just needed to be a couple of other people there for that conversation. Pulling out her commlink, she put in Rex’s frequency.

_______

Kix looked up as the medbay’s door hissed open and Ezra stepped in, squaring his jaw like he was mentally preparing himself. Nodding in greeting, Kix gestured him over to a table in the back, which Ezra sat down on without protest. Silently, Kix went about the usual tests: heart rate, blood pressure, reflexes, etc. He had to actually be doing something if someone walked in.

Eventually the persistent quiet seemed to get to Ezra, and he sighed. “How mad are you?”

“I’m not,” Kix said, then turned back to the datapad. It was true. Whatever his feelings about Ezra’s decisions, he wasn’t mad at the boy. 

“How disappointed are you?”

Kix sighed and set the datapad down. Disappointment. Yeah, that was a pretty good way to sum up his feelings about Ezra’s decisions. He could have done so much better, and they both knew it. 

Ezra took his sigh as the answer it was. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice carrying a tiredness that betrayed his honesty.

Kix gave him a sidelong look. “Are you now,” he didn’t ask, exactly, he just kind of stated. “Given the chance, would you do it again?”

“No.”

“And why not?” Kix asked as he prepared to take a blood sample.

“Because I hurt you. All of you. Especially Ahsoka. And that’s what I was trying not to do.” Ezra’s answer was in the same tired voice, and he wasn’t looking up at Kix anymore. He just kept his eyes on his feet, which were swinging slightly with the movement of the ship, like he couldn’t spare the energy to keep them still.

Right,” Kix said dryly, grabbing Ezra’s arm. “And I suppose keeping secrets is supposed to keep people safe?”

Ezra winced as the hypospray pinched his arm. “Not the secrets. The distance.” Kix shot him an incredulous look, silently prompting him to go on, and Ezra sighed. “Everyone I’ve ever gotten close to has suffered because of me, if they haven’t died. My family--the crew I was with before this happened--we lost my dad, lost friends because we were trying to free my home planet. The couple that raised me, ended up in prison and executed because they spoke out against the Empire. Which they did for me. They wanted a better galaxy for me and got killed for it. Even before that, Padme died giving birth to me and the entire galaxy suffered for it.”

Kix pulled the hypospray out of Ezra’s arm with a skeptical, “Somehow I doubt that.”

_ “Ori’haat,” _ Ezra promised, a distant look in his eyes. “I’ve spent years thinking through what went wrong at the end of the war, and what went wrong was that I was born.”

“I still doubt that,” Kix said as he sat on a stool opposite Ezra. “Even if that were the case, it doesn’t make it your fault. You didn’t choose to be born, and as far as I’m concerned, everyone else who ‘suffered’ because they met you? They chose to do what they did for a reason that was bigger than just you. 

“The whole galaxy is involved in this war, kid. It’s bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than the entire Jedi Order. This is a matter of life and death for more people than the two of us could ever meet. Trust me, people’s lives don’t turn to crap when you touch them. They turn to crap when people like the Sith decide to ruin them, and there’s nothing you can do about that.

“What you’ve got isn’t responsibility, it’s survivor’s guilt, and trust me, you’re not the only one. We’ve all got people we didn’t want to outlive, but we’re here and they’re not. Maybe that’s not fair, but that’s life and there’s nothing we can do about it. All we can do is make sure they didn’t die for no reason. Got it?”

Ezra nodded, looking slightly chagrined. “Got it.” They sat in silence for a moment as Kix tried to figure out how to broach the subject he’d really wanted to ask Ezra about. Right as he opened his mouth to ask, Ezra said, “I have a question.”

Kix sat back in his seat. “So do I. You first.”

“Right,” Ezra said, shifting uncomfortably. “So, um, how many clones are Force-sensitive?”

An icy pit of fear settled in his gut and he stiffened. “None. Clones can’t be Force-sensitive.”

Ezra gave him a disbelieving look. “Look, Kix, I don’t know how none of the Jedi have noticed yet, but I guarantee that once the war’s over, they’re going to notice. They might even offer to train you and others like you. Being Force-sensitive isn’t a bad thing; I mean, there are techniques for Force healing. I never mastered them, I can only do bruises on myself, but imagine how many lives it could help you save!” 

Ezra was excited now, the ghost of a smile on his face with a light Kix hadn’t seen before in his eyes. He looked like the young man he was, but Kix couldn’t find himself to be happy about that. He was too scared.

“Look, Ezra, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not Force-sensitive. Clones can’t be Force-sensitive.” Kix insisted, quickly standing and grabbing a datapad to busy himself. 

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Ezra asked, confusion in his voice. “Kix, you can’t deny that--”

“And you can’t keep poking your nose into other people’s business,” Kix snapped, and immediately regretted it. This whole conversation had gone off the rails so fast he was dizzy. Setting the datapad down, he braced himself against the table, closing his eyes for a quick minute before surreptitiously checking to make sure the medbay was clear. Unfortunately, it was, so he couldn’t use that as an excuse not to talk about this.

...And now he sounded like Ezra. Always an excuse not to talk, or a half-truth to throw them off the scent. If he wanted Ezra to start telling them the truth, maybe he needed a bit of prompting. 

Quietly, he muttered, “No one else knows. Just Jesse. And you, now, I guess.” Ezra sat back, looking at him intently and Kix had to force himself to meet his eyes. “And you can’t tell anyone. Not Rex, not Cody. Especially not the Jedi. They find out, I’m  _ dead.” _

Ezra’s eyes widened. “You think they’d kill you?”

Kix clenched his jaw for a second, debating his answer. “I don’t think Skywalker or Kenobi would actually do it, but if the rest of the Order finds out--if the Kaminoans find out--I’m dead.” He huffed and ran a hand over his face. “The Kaminoans have killed every other brother who’s shown signs of not being… normal. As far as I know I’m the only one who’s made it off Kamino.”

Ezra’s face was completely white, and he looked utterly horrified. “Why would they do that?” he managed, and Kix shrugged. 

“The Jedi told them to when they made the order for us. That’s the rumor, at any rate. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but, well, the orders still stand. But, listen, Ezra--” he grabbed his shoulder, leaning in closer so that he could whisper to Ezra because he could feel someone approaching the medbay “--you cannot tell anyone. If I’m not here to look after the men of the 501st, people will die. There aren’t many medics coming out of Kamino, I won’t be replaced. The boys here..” he trailed off as the door slid open on the other side of the room and Ezra nodded. 

“Okay,” he whispered before glancing past Kix’s shoulder. His gaze landed on someone and he took a steadying breath. Kix followed his gaze and was only mildly surprised to see Ahsoka and Rex approaching. Rex looked mildly ticked while Ahsoka had a stony expression. Her presence sang with anger and nervousness, though, so Kix could tell that this conversation was not going to stay civil for very long unless Ezra apologized.

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: ori'haat is a Mando'a phrase, usually meaning, "it's the truth, I swear-no bull."  
> Also: you might have noticed that I updated the tags. A lot. That's because 1) tagging is hard and my brain decided to quit on me when I was originally tagging and 2) as I write more of the story, more tags start applying and some stop being accurate. I don't like changing the tags after I've already published a work, but i this instance, it's warranted.   
> Please let me know what you think!


	6. Our Questions Ricochet Like Broken Satellites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This friggin' chapter, man. It was an absolute beast to write, especially the first part. It's been in my head since before I actually started writing this story, and still didn't turn out how I'd imagined it.  
> Aside form that complaint, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that I won't be able to update next week. Sorry. The good news is that to make up for the lack of an update this week, you get a really long chapter and no cliffhanger. I'm nice like that.

It was almost like a cruel parody of their first conversation, Ahsoka realized. Kix, Rex, and Ahsoka were all sitting on stools facing the bed, where Ezra was sitting with his legs crossed under him. He’d pulled the sheet up so that he could fiddle with it in his lap, and he was avoiding their eyes.

It was Kix who started the conversation after the awkward pause while they got their seats. “All right, kid, you want to start us off?”

Ezra shifted uncomfortably before muttering, “I’m sorry,” without looking up. Kix smacked him lightly on the knee and Ezra shot a glare at him before repeating himself, louder this time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the lies, for the badly-handled truths, for _karking_ _existing--_ ow!” He cut himself off when Kix slapped him again, harder this time. “All right, fine, I take back that last part, but still. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Ahsoka frowned. Ezra actually sounded sincere. Not only that, but his words felt sincere, the Force ringing with truth as he apologized. 

Rex crossed his arms. “Right. I’m sure. Of course, we’d have an easier time believing you if we knew you were capable of actually telling the truth.”

Ezra winced visibly. “I know, you’re right, and I’m sorry. If I could go back again and fix it, I would, and I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Yeah, sorry, Ezra,” Ahsoka said, leaning forward in her seat, “but this is real life. You don’t get to restart things when you make a mistake.” Ezra gave her a pointed look, and she realized what she’d said. “You know what I mean. You’re already on a second chance most people don’t get, do you really think you’ll get another one?”

Ezra shrugged helplessly, looking back down at his hands. “Maybe. I could probably make it happen, but…”

“Hold up,” Rex said, frowning. “You know how this happened?”

Ezra nodded. “I do now.” He glanced up at them and sighed. “Short version is that after the Empire took over, the Force was completely out of balance. In order to fix that, the balance itself decided to intervene. I got too close to a door and it decided to use me as a key. Poof, I was twenty years in the past.”

Ahsoka frowned. “Are you really going to just go back to the beginning every time you screw something up, though?”

“No,” Ezra answered immediately, “that’d probably drive me crazy. Anyway, that’s not my point. My point is that I screwed up, and I’m sorry. As far as the lying goes… I’m just as tired of it as you are, and I’m tired of being afraid. So I’m done with it. I know that doesn’t make up for doing it in the first place, but...” He trailed off, looking up with a hint of desperation in his eyes. 

Ahsoka crossed her arms. On the one hand, she knew she was supposed to forgive him. That was the Jedi way; he showed actual remorse and wanted to make it better, so she was supposed to give him another chance. But on the other hand, he had accused her of being responsible for the galaxy going to hell in a handbag. She wasn’t sure she could forgive him until she had all the facts. Or that she would want to forgive him once she did. 

Ahsoka barely kept herself from scowling at him. “You promise to tell us the truth from now on?”

Despite what he’d said, she almost expected him to argue, to say that wasn’t practical or fair or whatever other defence he could think of, but he just slumped slightly and nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly, then looked up at her, meeting her eyes with an intensity that surprised her, “but I still can’t tell you about the Sith. Period. Even you knowing his name is putting you in danger, and knowing more could get you killed. Okay?”

Ahoska glanced over at Kix and Rex to see what they thought of Ezra’s condition. Rex didn’t look happy, but Kix gave her a small nod. “Fine. Maybe we should pick up where our last conversation left off.”

“You mean when you yelled at me over the comm, or when we talked in person?” Ezra asked with a wry expression.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. Oh, he could deny being Anakin’s son all he wanted, but he definitely had gotten his father’s sass. “When we talked in person,  _ dikut. _ How much of what you told me was true?”

Ezra winced, and she instinctively drew in a breath. “All of it?” He said reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Everything I said was true, but I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

“So I do leave the Jedi Order.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see both Kix and Rex whip their heads around to stare at her, but she kept her eyes on Ezra, who let out a heavy breath. 

“It was more like, Aunt ‘Soka voluntarily chose not to come back.” Ahsoka frowned. Chose not to come back? If she didn’t leave, that meant that she had been expelled… which made even less sense. Ezra answered her question before she could ask it, though. 

“There was an…  _ incident. _ The Jedi Temple was bombed. Aunt ‘Soka and General Skywalker were called in to investigate, and somehow she ended up getting framed for it. She ran, of course, so she could find out who had actually done it, but she ended up being caught, and the Jedi Order expelled her so that the GAR and the Senate could hold a military trial.”

Ahsoka drew in a sharp breath. She had been framed? But why wouldn’t the Council believe that she hadn’t done it? Master Obi-Wan and Master Plo, they were her friends, why would they sit by and…? She shook herself mentally and forced herself to pay attention to what Ezra was saying.

“I’m pretty sure the Sith had a hand in making events escalate so quickly, but, anyway, Padme agreed to represent Aunt ‘Soka in the trial, while Skywalker tried to find the actual bomber. He did, right before she could be sentenced. And before you ask, no, neither Uncle Rex nor Aunt ‘Soka actually told me who it was, just that it was a friend and fellow Padawan. 

“Anyway, the bomber got sentenced, and the Council offered to let Aunt ‘Soka back, but… she just couldn’t come back after that. Not to the Order. She did come back to General Skywalker, and he gave her part of the 501st, which is why Uncle Rex was with her on Mandalore when… well, when it all went down. At the end.”

Ezra was quiet as he said the last part, and still quiet when he met her eyes. “It wasn’t her fault. What happened, it wasn’t on her. And even if it had been, that doesn’t carry over to you. Her choices, you haven’t made them yet. I shouldn’t have… I should never have made it sound like I blamed you. I don’t. I could never.”

Ahsoka wasn’t quite sure what to say. Honestly, it was so much to process. A fellow Jedi had bombed the Temple? She had been framed? Of course, the Sith’s involvement made sense, especially if they were trying to get Anakin to turn to the Dark Side, because they’d need to get him alone, but how? How could a Sith manipulate the Council and the Senate to such an extent without the Jedi noticing?

With a small sigh, she massaged her forehead, wondering if there was any way to make her brain feel like it wasn’t being fried. A quick glance up told her that the other three were waiting for her to say or do something to let them know it was okay to keep going with the interrogation. Dropping her hand to her lap, she asked, “Do you have any sort of plan to keep that from happening?”

Ezra shook his head. “Not really. It’s not supposed to happen for another month and a half, two months--I don’t know the exact timeline. If worst comes to worst, I can take the fall for it, but--”

“No,” Kix interrupted. “Worst comes to worst, we’ll vouch for her. From now on, we’ll stick to you like glue, make it so that there could be no way she could have planned something like that without one or more of us knowing. The bomber won’t be able to frame her that way.”

Ezra didn’t exactly look convinced, but he nodded anyway. Ahsoka felt much the same way; if the Sith were really trying to get her out of the picture, she doubted the word of clones--especially clones she had been serving with for years--would be trusted by the Senate. Still, she had to admit that this plan was better. Ezra taking the fall for something neither of them had actually done wouldn’t help anyone.

Rex broke the silence that followed Kix’s statement. “Alright, next question: if you’re so strong in the Force, why didn’t Ahsoka train you?”

Ahsoka straightened. She hadn’t thought of that. Ezra grimaced again. “There were actually a few reasons. The first one was that she had other responsibilities that would have made it impossible for her to take on a Padawan. She was an important part of the Rebellion, so her priorities were elsewhere. If I hadn’t been Skywalker’s son, I doubt I would have seen her half as much as I did. The second reason was that she didn’t really feel it was right for her to take on a Padawan after she left the Jedi Order. The third reason…”

Ezra trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw shut as if he was preparing himself for pain. “The third reason was that by the time we met, I already had a Master,” he said softly, and Ahsoka blinked. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Rex said, perfectly summing up what she was feeling. “I thought you said barely any Jedi survived, but you happen to have found a Master before you met Ahsoka?”

Ezra nodded, not looking up at any of them. “He… he was my dad. Part of the crew that took me in when I was fourteen. The crew that became my family.” He paused long enough to swipe the sleeve of his blacks across his eyes before he heaved a sigh. “He’s the only one I know for sure died. Everyone else is just stuck twenty years in the future of an alternate timeline. But he’s also the main reason Aunt ‘Soka didn’t train me.”

A glance at the others told her they were just as surprised by this revelation as she was. An actual Master who’d taken him in at fourteen? But he’d died and-- Suddenly pieces clicked into place as she remembered the man she’d glimpsed in the memory Ezra had shown her. The sense of safety turned to grief… if she had to guess, she’d say that was exactly what it would feel like to lose a Master and a father. 

“He was the one with you when I faced Vader, wasn’t he,” she asked, and Ezra nodded, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his feet, but when he didn’t say anything, she added, “and he’s the real reason you didn’t tell us about being Force-sensitive. You didn’t want to think about him because he’s gone--and there’s probably a younger version of him somewhere in the galaxy right now,” she wanted to groan in frustration as the realization hit her. Why did things have to be so bloody complicated whenever Ezra was involved?

Ezra nodded, sniffling slightly. “Yeah.” He waited a beat, then glanced up at the three of them. “Any other questions for this interrogation session, or can I go get ready for the mission?”

“Just one,” Kix said, picking up a datapad and holding it to his chest. “The weapon that wiped out the Jedi--”

Ezra cut in with a grimace. “Kix, I’m not sure how to tell--”

“Are we it?” Kix plowed on like he hadn’t heard him. “Us clones, are we it?” Ezra instantly froze, staring at Kix with wide eyes. 

Rex’s expression matched. “What?” He asked, his voice the only sound in the otherwise silent medbay. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room with Kix’s question. Ahsoka couldn’t breath as what Kix had asked slowly began to process.

Kix ignored both of them, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on Ezra’s face. “I take that as a yes.” He flipped the datapad around in his hands, showing an image of what looked like a chip of some kind. “Got word from a medic with the 41st, apparently Commander Bly spread the word about these things and how to remove them from our heads. Also told me to keep it on the down-low. I take it this is what made us turn on the Jedi?”

“Wait, wait, slow down,” Ahsoka said, her mind reeling from the data dump Kix had just unloaded on her, never mind its implications. “You have…  _ control chips? _ Why--Who--oh, stars above,” she finally gave up on trying to articulate, grabbing her Padawan beads to help ground her. The situation was spiraling so fast she was starting to lose her grip on reality.

Kix gave her a pitying look before turning back to Ezra. “Well?”

Ezra opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking like a fish gasping for air. Finally, he gave up on getting words out, too, and just nodded. 

Rex was rubbing the back of his neck like he was expecting to feel the chip in his head. _“_ _ Haarchak,” _ he muttered. “If the whole army has these chips, it’ll be a massacre.”

Kix huffed a humourless laugh. “I think that was the idea.”

Ahsoka shuddered. Kix was right. If the Sith triggered these chips, the Jedi would never see it coming. After three years of war, they all trusted the troops to watch their backs, not put a blaster bolt in it. Even the ones that didn’t approve of the use of clones constantly had at least a few of them nearby. If all of them turned on the Jedi at once… it was a miracle any of them survived.

“That’s what Fives found out about, isn’t it,” Rex asked in a flat voice, and Ezra nodded again. Rex swiped the medical supplies off of a nearby table with an uncharacteristic curse before turning on Ezra with a glare. “And you didn’t tell us? You thought it would be fine for us walking time bombs to keep hanging around our general, our Jedi, without a word of warning? You couldn’t have told us we’re being controlled like mindless puppets at the whim of a madman?”

As Rex spoke, Ezra wilted. “I wanted to, Rex. I wanted to tell you. But the Emperor triggered them by saying the order, and I don’t know if I could trigger them the same way. I was scared--scared I was going to make things worse, scared I was going to be responsible for another genocide… scared I was going to give you another reason to hate me. I just… didn’t know if the risk was worth it.”

“Really? Or did you just decide the risk wasn't worth it without thinking about how this would affect _us?"_ Rex wasn’t as angry as it had been in his last outburst, but there was still an edge to his voice and his expression was a stony mask of disappointment, one that Ahsoka hated having leveled at her. It had a way of making you feel like there was nothing you could do to make up or how badly you’d screwed up.

With a shuddering breath, Ezra looked up, and Ahsoka realized he was on the verge of tears. “Rex, I’m so sorry. I just--I didn’t know what to do. There’s always been someone else with the answer whenever I don’t know--my mom, my master, my CO… Even when it was just me, the Force would tell me what I was supposed to be doing, but all it told me when I got here was to stop Anakin from Falling, so I’m just--I was just so lost.”

He dropped his gaze again, fiddling with his gloves as he said quietly, “I wanted to tell you guys, about the chips. When I told you about Fives. But it felt wrong. Like the Force didn’t want me to, or maybe that was just me being too afraid and taking the coward’s way out. I don’t even know which anymore. But I can’t do that anymore. 

“I’m supposed to be changing things, but I’ve been trying to do it alone, and it’s not working. So I need…” Ezra cut himself off with a grimace and a sigh. “I need your help.”

Kix sighed, looking tired as he set the datapad down. “I think that’s what we’re for, kid. We don’t want the galaxy falling anymore than you do, so of course we’re going to do what we can to help, but we can’t do that if you don’t  _ tell us what we need to know.” _

Agreed,” Rex said, still sounding angry, “so that whole ‘no lying’ thing is a good place to start, but we need you to actually tell us this sort of thing  _ before  _ it becomes relevant. Okay?”

Ezra nodded, keeping his eyes on his feet, and Ahsoka sighed. At least they’d managed to keep the conversation mostly civilized, although Rex was still glowering. He didn’t feel angry, though, that seemed to be a front for something else. Fear, she realized after a second. 

She wondered for a minute if their last few conversations had been weighing on him as much as they had been on her. He looked tired, honestly, but there was a lightness about him that hadn’t been there before.

“Alright, I think we need to.. you know, go get ready.” Ahsoka said, although she’d wanted to say  _ take a break and come back when we’ve all had time to process. _ Ezra, however, took the out and nodded again, slipping off of the bed and walking over to the door without looking up at them once. The door hissed open before he got there, though, revealing Charger, who watched Ezra pass with a resigned expression before turning to look back at Kix, who shrugged.

“Things got tense,” the medic said as he started cleaning up the few tools he’d left lying around. “You should probably talk to him. He might need company from someone who wasn’t part of this conversation.” Charger nodded and followed after Ezra, leaving the other three in awkward silence.

Rex was the first to break it. “How soon can you start removing the chips?”

“Immediately,” Kix answered. “The instructions came with the message, it’s a fairly simple procedure--”

“Good,” Rex cut in, pulling his helmet on, almost like he was trying to hide behind it. “Get mine out as soon as we’re back.”

“Captain,” Kix cut in, standing between Rex and the door. “I know you’re upset, but don’t take it out on him.”

“If he didn’t want me to be mad at him, he should have told me I was a loaded weapon ready to fire on my Jedi,” Rex said shortly, and Ahsoka sighed.

“Rex,” she said carefully, standing and putting her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

Rex hesitated, then straightened. “Of course, Commander.”

_ “Rex.” _

His shoulders drooped at her insistent tone, and he let out a soft sound that might have been a sigh. “I’ll... be okay for the mission. Might give me the chance to shoot something.”

_______

If Ezra had wanted to be found by Master Obi-Wan, he would have gone to the General’s quarters. If he hadn’t wanted to be found at all, he would have found a ventilation shaft and hidden inside. As it was... well, wanted was a bit too strong, but he knew Charger was going to have a fit if he didn’t check in with him, so he purposely hid where Charger would find him.

He pulled his knees up to his chest so he’d fit better in the small nook behind some workout equipment in one of the onboard gyms. He guessed it would probably be another fifteen minutes before Charger stumbled onto his hiding spot, which was fine by him. He needed to cool off, calm down, and think things through before the clone inevitably made him talk about his feelings again.

Seriously, as much as he appreciated what Charger was trying to do… he didn’t really appreciate what it entailed. It’d be easier if Charger knew everything… but he’d already had to tell Obi-Wan this week alone. He didn’t want to have to go through that again so soon. Maybe after this next mission.

The next mission where he was supposed to be working side-by-side with Rex and Ahsoka. Stars, the thought hurt. The two had been some of his favorite people to work with in the future, mostly because he didn’t get to work with them a lot, especially Ahsoka. Now, though, he couldn’t even be in a room with Rex without feeling like he was letting him down, and he kept giving Ahsoka more reasons to hate him. Eventually she would, like any sensible person. It’s not like he hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

The chips weren’t even the biggest reason, just the latest one. Now that he actually thought about it, he knew he should have--and could have, easily--told Kix about them. Thinking back on it now, though, he realized how stupid his reasons were. If Palpatine said the wrong thing, the clones would be triggered, and that would be much worse. That trumped his fear. 

That didn’t mean that conversation had been any easier. 

The sound of the door sliding open dragged his attention away from his thoughts, and he reached out through the Force. Realizing it was Charger, he sighed. He’d thought it’d take longer for the clone to find him.

“Ezra?” Charger called. “You in here?”

Ezra didn’t say anything in answer, but he knocked once on the wall, and the sound of Charger’s footsteps started coming closer. He pulled his knees up to his chest a little tighter, turning away from the entrance to the little nook and staring forlornly the wall beside him.

The mat he’d pulled across the entrance to the nook was pulled aside, and he blinked hard at the sudden influx of light. Thankfully, Charger was blocking the majority of it, so it wasn’t that bad.

Said clone sighed before kneeling in front of him. “You good, Commander?”

Ezra didn’t respond, just reached out and brushed the wall with one hand, feeling every bump and imperfection in the cold metal. 

“Want to hit something?”

Ezra shook his head this time. “Can’t. I’ve got to get ready for a mission soon. Probably already missed the briefing,” he muttered as his fingers found a scuff mark. He felt a pang in his chest. If this was the  _ Ghost, _ Hera would have known about this mark and told him, Zeb, or Sabine to get rid of it, and they would have found a way to foist the responsibility onto Chopper. 

Oh, Force. He hadn’t even thought about it, but if the other timeline was still running parallel to this one, then Sabine would be searching Wild Space for him, completely unaware that he was twenty years in the past, in an alternate timeline. Would she eventually give up? How long would she look for him before she realized there was no finding him?

He remembered the message he’d left them. He hoped Chopper had remembered to play it for them, but at the same time, that would mean they would be expecting him to come home eventually. And now he couldn’t. He tried not to imagine how heartbroken Hera, Zeb, and Rex would be when Sabine inevitably came home without him. And he’d never had the opportunity to tell them that Aunt ‘Soka was still alive. Would she stay stranded on Malachor? Would she be waiting for one of them to come get her? Had she felt it the moment Ezra had left that timeline, and think he had died when he’d vanished?

And that was assuming that timeline still existed. For all he knew, it had winked out of existence the moment he’d been sent back in time, wiping out all of his friends and family.

Charger’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he quickly dashed away the tears gathering in his eyes. “You know they’re wrong, right?”

Ezra huffed a humorless laugh, dropping his hand back down to the floor and looking Charger dead in the eye. “They’re not wrong, Charger. I messed up. This is on me.”

“Maybe,” Charger said with a shrug, “but that doesn’t give them a right to shout at you.”

“Actually, there really wasn’t a whole lot of shouting,” Ezra muttered, and Charger rolled his eyes, shifting his feet so that he could sit down comfortably.

“They still said something that hurt you.”

Letting his head slump back against the wall, Ezra grimaced. “I hurt them first, Charger, and they’re my friends. Or they were. I still… I look up to them, and they hate me. Or at the very least, they’re mad at me, and it’s my fault. I can’t do anything right.”

Charger made a noise that Ezra interpreted as,  _ I highly doubt that, _ and he glared at the clone without moving his head. “I can’t. You know, I joined the army so I could make a difference, and so far I’ve only managed to make things worse. I can’t do this without them but I don't think they can forgive me for what I did.”

Charger sighed, patting Ezra’s knee in a way that reminded him painfully of his Rex. “The war’s bigger than just our two battalions, you know. It’d take a lot more than just one person, Jedi or not, to change the way things are going. That’s not on you. You’re doing everything you can, and that’s all the galaxy can ask.”

Ezra didn’t agree, but he couldn’t say anything because of  _ why  _ he didn’t agree. Saying, ‘but I was sent back in time to prevent the war from ending badly and dooming the galaxy to darkness’ would raise more questions than it would be worth. So instead, he raked his fingers through his hair and gave Charger his best wry smile. “What are you, my therapist?”

Charger shrugged, but he was smiling now, too, so Ezra considered that mission accomplished. “Well, if that’s what you need...” He teased before standing and offering a hand to pull Ezra to his feet. “C’mon, you should go get ready. And hey,” Charger stopped him before he could bolt for the door, “after this mission? Drinks’re on me.”

Ezra huffed a short laugh and gave Charger a tired salute before leaving. 

_ -Three Months Ago- _

“Technically it isn’t on fire!”

“Of course it’s not on fire, you  _ completely blew it up!” _

Kanan had to shout to be heard over the sound of blasterfire and secondary explosions. Not that it mattered. Sabine was pretending not to have heard him. With a groan, he rolled his eyes and turned his focus to the battlefield around him instead.

It was pure chaos. The outpost they’d been tasked to capture was currently burning rubble, scattered across the surrounding forest of Felucia. Droids were still hunkered down around it in groups sending endless waves of blasterfire at the small group responsible for blowing the outpost. Said group was currently hunkered down behind what chunks of debris provided decent enough shelter and returning fire as best they could, but they were heavily outnumbered.

A clone broke cover off to Kanan’s right and he had to fight the instinct to open fire at the white helmet. The clone chucked a detonator into the middle of the largest group of droids and quickly ducked back under the duracrete boulder he’d been hiding behind right before the detonator went off with a spectacular  _ boom. _

“Oh, crap!” Kanan heard one of the droids exclaim. “Um, retreat!” 

He gave a humourless grin and broke cover, peppering the backs of the retreating droids with blasterbolts and cutting them down in rows. All around him, clones leapt out of their hiding places, war cries echoing as they followed suit, leaving nothing but smoking heaps of droid parts littering the jungle floor. 

Sighing with relief, Kanan stood and holstered his blaster pistol. No matter how many droids he’d cut down with ease, he still couldn’t relax until he was sure they were scrap. 

Off to his left, Sabine ambled over to the downed droids, kicking one of them absentmindedly as she holstered her weapons, too. He tensed as she stepped over a droid, almost expecting it to suddenly sit up and shoot her, but nothing happened.

“This sector’s clear,” Sabine said, her voice slightly muffled by the helmet she’d stolen (“borrowed,” she’d insisted, to which he’d nearly said, “whatever you say, Ezra,”) from a bounty hunter. It looked wrong; it wasn’t the right shape and she hadn’t touched it with paint at all, but it seemed to help her get her head in the fight.

The trooper who’d thrown the detonator nodded, but did a quick sweep of the area anyway. “We should head back to camp. The other groups need our help.”

Kanan nodded, but waited until most of the troopers had started jogging toward the base to grab hold of Sabine’s arm. From her body language alone, he knew she’d rolled her eyes, but that didn’t stop him from turning her around so she had to look at him.

“Hey,” he started softly. “I know you’re still upset at the  _ situation _ , but you can’t go lobbing explosives around whenever you feel like it.”

Sabine yanked her arm out of his grip. ”We needed to get rid of the guns on the walls. I took down the walls. Boom, no more guns. What exactly are you mad about?”

“The fact that you ran out into the open without telling anyone what you were doing so no one covered you, the fact that our orders were to capture the outpost, not destroy it, the fact that--”

“Rhetorical question,” she cut in, crossing her arms and shifting her weight back on her heels. “Stop babying me. I’m an adult, I can take care of myself--”

“You’re still my kid, and this is a war zone. You need people watching your back. How many times did you lecture the others about that?” Kanan shot back. Sabine didn’t have a comeback, and he sighed and rubbed his eyes, the fading adrenaline rush leaving him tired. “You know what, let’s just… let’s finish this conversation later. But just so you know, she’s probably gonna lecture you when we get back.”

Sabine scoffed--at least, he was pretty sure that was a scoff, it was hard to tell with the helmet in the way--and turned back to follow the troopers. “Do I look like I care?”

“I can’t see your face, but no, not really,” Kanan admitted as he jogged after her. For the first time, Kanan wished Hera hadn’t been so stern when she’d lectured the kids. Now it was difficult to get them--especially Sabine--to actually take a lecture to heart. They’d just gotten used to it.

The camp was bustling with activity by the time they got there. Other groups had also arrived after completing their objectives and were milling around, setting up tents, sorting through supplies, and stacking munitions in an effort to make the camp more efficient and organized. It wasn’t hard to pick out the center of the activity: clones moved in and out of the large tent in the middle of the camp like drones in a hive. 

Kanan headed right into the middle of it, vaguely aware of Sabine reluctantly trailing behind him but mostly focused on avoiding going against the flow of traffic, which was hard because it was always changing. It took a couple of minutes of being squeezed too close to bodies wearing plastoid armor, but they managed to make it into the tent, which, after the hustle and bustle of the camp outside, was surprisingly quiet.

Next to the portable holotable in the middle of the room, a beautiful Twi’lek woman was discussing something with a clone in armor that had definitely seen better days. Kanan stood back, waiting for her to get done and trying not to stare. Even if he never thought he’d see her again, it was still rude to stare--not to mention weird.

After a few minutes of standing awkwardly, Kanan cleared his throat, and the hushed conversation instantly cut itself off and she looked up with a surprised smile.

“There you are,” General Secura said in her soft Ryl accent. “Any trouble?”

Kanan shook his head. “None, but  _ someone  _ decided to blow the outpost up instead of capturing it.” He gave Sabine a pointed look, and she crossed her arms defensively.

“Oops,” she said flatly. 

Commander Bly sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to make do. Any losses?”

“None. Not even any injuries worse than scrapes and bruises.” Kanan replied, letting his shoulders slump a bit. He wasn't used to those kind of numbers, not after what had felt like an endless string of losses back in their time. It made him feel both powerless, like it wasn't anything he did that saved lives, and hopeful, because if they could keep walking away unharmed, they stood a better shot at ending this war the right way.

General Secura nodded in relief. "Thank you, Spectre One, you may go. Spectre Five, if you could stay here, I need to speak to you."

Kanan shot Sabine an I-told-you-so look, and she very subtly flipped him off as she reached up and removed her helmet. Kanan just smirked as he turned and left the tent. Sabine had been acting out more since they'd ended up back in time, but honestly, he preferred her acting out over the depressive bout she'd fallen into when Hera and the others didn't show up after nearly two weeks. It showed that she was at least engaging in the galaxy around her.

"Spectre One, if you don't mind," a voice behind Kanan made him jump and whirl around, his hand automatically falling to his belt where he normally kept his lightsaber. Bly raised an eyebrow at his reaction but didn't comment, instead beckoning him over to a tent that on closer inspection turned out to be the medical tent.

As soon as they were inside, Kanan turned to Bly and Dary, the medic. "Everything okay?" He asked quietly, and the two clones exchanged a look that instantly made Kanan uneasy.

"One of the boys didn't make it through surgery." Dary said softly. At Kanan's quizzical look, he tapped his temple with a significant look on his face and Kanan grimaced. That was only the third time that had happened, but it was the fourth time they'd lost a trooper to the chips. One of the boys had eaten his blaster after waking up from surgery; as near as they could tell, Dary hadn't removed the entire chip and the piece of it that was left had activated, resulting in the trooper's suicide. Still, that was better than attempted genecide.

It was still awful. The deaths on the table were worse, though, because those were entirely preventable, although the only thing anyone could do about those was not operate on them. That, however, was entirely out of the question from the moment Kanan and Sabine had told the boys about them. So all they could do was press on and try not to lose anyone else if they could help it.

"What are we going to tell the general this time?" Bly asked.

Kanan pursed his lips, stroking his beard as he thought. It hadn't taken that long to regrow his beard; his hair was still shorter than he'd like, though. He couldn't pull it completely back into a ponytail yet.

"I guess we're going to have to tell her that he was killed in the line of duty. Which team was he assigned to?" Kanan said after a minute. He hated lying to one of the Jedi he looked up to so much, but it was for the best.

"Team Osk. I'll fill their team leader in," Bly said, not entirely hide his grimace. Lying to the general was harder on him than it was for Dary or Kanan, given how close the two were, but it was a necessary evil. Kanan and Sabine had managed to convince the boys that it was a plot from someone inside the GAR and telling the general would make it that much more likely that the traitor would find out they knew and trigger one of the orders on the chips, so no one was even considering telling her, but that didn't make it any easier, especially since they had to cover up what they were doing.

The entire 327th knew about the chips, except her. That had been incredibly tricky to achieve, but it was only going to get harder when they had to spread the word to other battalions. The more people who knew, the more likely it was that Palpatine was going to hear about what they were up to. And if he heard... Well, Kanan had already seen what would happen, so he was doing everything he could to make sure that didn't happen again.

That didn't mean he wasn't planning for what to do if it did. That was part of the reason he wasn't using the name Kanan Jarrus, but was instead sticking to the codename Spectre One. That way, if Order 66 still happened, young Caleb Dume would still have that name available.

Sabine was using the codename Spectre Five for similar reasons. She'd actually checked, though, and there was currently a child on Krownest named Sabine Wren. So if she was going to create a splash, she was going to make sure she didn't use a name that could be traced back to a defenseless baby.

Dary's voice broke Kanan out of his thoughts. "We need to get the chip out of your head sometime soon, Commander. You're closest to the general, if any of the orders were to be given you could end up hurting her very easily."

Bly sighed heavily. "I know. It's just that if it goes wrong, there won't be anyone there to protect her."

Kanan scoffed good-naturedly. "What exactly do you think we're here for? To look pretty? We'll look after her if anything goes wrong,  _ which it won't. _ How many of the boys have gone through surgery?" He asked Dary.

"Nearly the whole battalion," Dary answered immediately. "Those are pretty good odds for making it through just fine, Commander."

Bly nodded. "Alright, next break in the campaign, I'll do it, but right now I've got to inform a team leader of the death of one of his soldiers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally catch up with Kanan and Sabine! Dary is an OC because there is a startling lack of medics in the GAR and I needed someone, but I don't think he's gonna make another appearance. On the other side of the galaxy, Ahsoka's no longer as mad at Ezra, but Rex is even more ticked off. Because I'm mean like that.  
> Anyway, next chapter will be up on 14th of March.


	7. The Hammer Struck the Auction Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry about the break. Good news is, even though I couldn't post, I was able to write a good bit. Anyway, you're here for the chapter, not to read my ramblings. Here you go...

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Ezra muttered under his breath as the ship they’d "acquired" dropped out of hyperspace above Zygerria. He didn’t think anyone had heard, but Skywalker glanced at him out of the corner of his eye with an amused smile.

“It’s a straightforward plan,” he said, like that was supposed to be reassuring. “We sneak in, find the colonists, and get them and ourselves out. With our disguises, this’ll be a piece of cake.”

Ezra scoffed, leaning on the back of the pilot’s seat the General had claimed as he tried to get a good look at the planet below. “Yeah, this ‘straightforward plan’ has so many holes in it you could fly a swoop bike through them.”

“It’s an infiltration mission,” Skywalker stressed, like that alone kept it from being a bad plan, rolling his eyes as he brought them in. “Have you never done something like this?”

“Oh, I have.” Ezra pushed off the seat and crossed his arms, making his displeasure as clear as he could. “All the time, actually, but right now, we’re doing three things we never did: we never went in without knowing the protocols, we never drew attention to ourselves, and unless we knew we had a good escape plan, we never did the prisoner gag. If we don’t blend in, we’ll be caught, and if we get caught, our ‘prisoner’ isn’t going to be alone in the cell.”

As he spoke, he gestured back to the cargo hold behind them, where Ahsoka was sitting, trying to adjust her slave’s costume so that it wasn’t digging into her ribs. 

Skywalker didn’t so much as glance back at him. “We’ll be  _ fine. _ Now, you should go get into that uniform.”

Ezra turned back toward the cargo bay with a scowl, muttering under his breath, “well, when this comes back to bite us, I won’t say I told you so.”

As he entered the cargo bay, Ahsoka and Rex looked up from their whispered conversation, and Ezra shifted uncomfortably, quickly glancing over his shoulder toward the cockpit, where Obi-Wan was thankfully keeping Skywalker busy so he wouldn’t overhear a conversation that was bound to head into delicate territory.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Ezra said softly. “I was sent here to make things better, and I haven’t been doing that. The chips were one of the first things I should have told you about, and I didn’t. I let all of you down. That’s on me.”

The two nodded, and after a beat Ahsoka said quietly, “Kix is working on getting them out now.” 

Ezra nodded. He’d figured Kix would start getting the chips out as quickly as he could as soon as he found out about them, so that really wasn’t a surprise. In fact, it was kind of reassuring, that even while he, Rex, and Ahsoka were arguing, Kix was staying on top of things. Plus, it was reassuring that the boys were being freed despite how badly he’d messed this up. He didn’t miss that they didn't exactly say they forgave him. Not that he was surprised. He wouldn’t have forgiven him, either.

Another glance over at the cockpit told him that they needed to wrap the conversation up because Skywalker was standing like he was about to join them in the back. Turning back to Rex and Ahsoka, he sighed. “We should focus on the mission. Work all that stuff out later” 

They also glanced at the cockpit and nodded before Rex tossed Ezra the helmet that went with his disguise. “Here. You’re going to need this.”

Ezra pulled a face as he caught the helmet and turned it over in his hands. As he entered the cargo hold, Skywalker gave a quick laugh. “Not a fan of the brown and gold?”

“Not a fan of this plan,” Ezra corrected, standing. “Seriously, are you sure I shouldn’t be the slave? I’m better at hand-to-hand, and whoever’s going as the slave is the most likely to be caught without a weapon.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, and started to cross her arms, but realizing how that emphasized her exposed midriff, settled for putting her hands on her hips instead. “It’d be suspicious if the Togruta wasn’t the slave, and I’ve been training for combat since I was a Youngling. I’ll be fine if I get caught.”

“Okay,” Ezra conceded, “but how quickly can you get out of a shock collar?” Immediately, everyone stopped and looked at him, and just like that, Ezra knew they were screwed. 

From the door to the cockpit, Obi-Wan asked, “Shock collar?”

Ezra swore under his breath, earning himself a sharp look from Rex as he turned to face the generals with an expression that said,  _ ‘are you kidding me?’ _ “Did you do any research? No? Seriously?” With a groan, he massaged his forehead, then straightened. “Slavers, especially in the Outer Rim, have this tendency to make slaves wear shock collars, especially female slaves. Leaves their hands free to serve. If she can’t get out of one in less than a minute, we’re doomed.”

Skywalker curled his lip, looking disgusted, but it was Obi-Wan who spoke. “You know an awful lot about how slavers behave.” There was an undercurrent of curiosity that might have been mistaken for accusation, but Ezra knew the general, and his body language wasn’t the slightly aggressive stance that he always adopted when he was making subtle accusations.

That didn’t keep Ezra from leveling a flat glare at him. “I grew up on the streets of an Outer Rim planet, and my mom was a Twi’lek. Trust me, I had to know a lot about how they behave.”

Beside him, Skywalker had a funny look on his face. “Your mom was a Twi’lek?” He asked, looking Ezra over as if he was expecting to notice pointed ears or discoloration of the skin.

Ezra just turned his flat glare at him. “I was adopted. Back to the issue at hand, can you get out of a shock collar?” He turned back to Ahsoka, who was rubbing her neck like she was expecting a shock collar to have appeared there while they were talking.

“I don’t know,” she said, a nervous edge to her voice. “Maybe? But I’d need to see one to know for sure.”

“By then it might be too late,” Rex put in, “if you can only see it for a second before they put it on and you can’t get it off, you’ll be stuck. And the rest of us will be, too.”

Ahsoka slumped slightly, and Ezra felt bad. He really didn’t want to put this kind of pressure in her, but Rex was right. If Ahsoka couldn’t get out, none of them were going to. “I’ll… figure it out,” she said, but the look in her eyes wasn’t as certain and she turned to Skywalker, who’d crossed his arms and was frowning.

He didn’t exactly have any options to offer, though, so he just sighed. “Can you get her out of one, Ezra?”

He immediately nodded. “I’ll need to be close by her at all times, though, we have no idea when--or if,” he added for Skywalker’s sake, because for some reason, he’d decided to be the optimist in this situation, “something goes wrong.” 

Obi-Wan nodded. “And that could be difficult to pull off.”

A beat passed as they all tried to come up with some sort of solution, but before anything came to mind, Artoo beeped from the cockpit, announcing that they were landing. Obi-Wan, Rex, and Skywalker grabbed their helmets, the only thing missing from their attire, and Ezra ducked into the onboard ‘fresher to change into the golden-brown armor of the Zygerrian slavers. 

When he stepped out Ahsoka had donned a heavy black cloak and hood, which covered all of her except her eyes, and Ezra rolled his eyes. While he understood her wanting to preserve her modesty, female slaves--especially of the more  _ exotic _ variety--never wore clothing that covered  _ anything.  _ It was disgusting, but true, so her cloak was going to draw unnecessary attention.

With a sigh, he pulled the hood off, and she immediately protested. “Hey! I’m not walking around in this skimpy thing!”

“Yeah, well,” Ezra said as he balled the cloak up and threw it in the corner, “if we  _ don’t _ make you walk around in it, the other slavers will be suspicious. I don’t really like it, either, but right now, we need to blend in, which means the Togruta doesn’t get to wear a cloak. Sorry.”

She scowled and turned to the others, looking for backup, but the men just grimaced and looked away, except for Rex, who sighed. “He’s right, Commander. We need to blend in if we’re going to find the missing colonists, and… that does stand out less than the cloak would.”

Ezra shot her a sympathetic look as she spluttered. He felt bad--dirty would be a better word, really--for insisting she wear the costume, but he’d heard Rex using the example of the Zygerria mission enough to know exactly what they’d done wrong in the disguises department. He needed to make sure that this time, it went better. Not just because it was his life in the balance, but because he needed to see that he was changing things. 

“Alright,” Skywalker said, and Force did he look weird in the slaver’s outfit. The brown and gold was a stark contrast to the normal dark greys and blacks. “Everyone knows their assignment. Rex, you’ll be scoping the place out, note anything that seems out of place. I’ll be distracting the Zygerrian Queen, while Obi-Wan tries to find the colonists. Ahsoka, you and Artoo will be scoping out the palace, see if you can find anything on the colonists there. Ezra--”

“I know, I know,” Ezra said, rolling his eyes. “Babysitting duty.” Behind Skywalker’s back, Ahsoka stuck her tongue out him, and he sighed.  _ Real mature, ‘Soka, _ he thought as Skywalker nodded.

“Basically. You’re going to have to follow her. Just, don’t  _ look _ like you’re following her.” Ezra gave him a confused look and he sighed. “I don’t know, just kinda… act casual.”

“Casual,” Ezra deadpanned. “We’re heading into a slaver’s den, where I have to pretend to be a slaver or risk getting caught, killed or imprisoned myself, with minimal back-up who will all be implicated if even one of us blows our cover, and you want me to ‘act casual?’”

Obi-Wan patted Ezra’s shoulder as he moved past him toward the landing ramp. “Just ignore him, and do what feels right. You’ll do fine.”

“That seems like good advice for most things in life,” Ahsoka muttered as she went to stand next to Obi-Wan. “Alright, everyone ready?”

Ezra double checked that he had his hold-out blaster tucked safely in his boot, then nodded. “Ready.”

_______

When this was all over, he was definitely going to tell Skywalker ‘I told you so,’ regardless of what he’d said earlier. Even Artoo, sitting a few feet in front of him with a much better view of Obi-Wan standing in the middle of the arena, was shooting Skywalker a  _ look, _ like he was used to it but tired of it all the same. 

Skywalker took the whip the queen was holding out to him with only a split second’s hesitation, then turned and headed down to the arena. Ezra did his best to make it look like he was trying to see down into the arena rather than creeping closer to Ahsoka, because if the feeling in his gut was to be trusted--and it was, he knew that from experience--things were about to go south real fast. Ahsoka glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t move. He gave her a small nod, letting her know he was ready to get her out of the collar at a moment’s notice, before looking back down at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked like crap. It had only been a couple of hours since Ezra had watched him sneak off to try to find the colonists, but he had lost the slaver’s outfit and had bruises littering his face. His Jedi robes--and why had he been wearing  _ those  _ under the slaver’s garb, that was a dead giveaway--were filthy, caked with dust, and his skin wasn’t much better. It looked like he’d been thrown to the ground and beaten while he was down.

Ezra had to take a deep breath to keep from immediately launching himself into the arena to kick the  _ shebs  _ of every single guard who was holding an electrowhip at the ready. Instead, he turned his attention to Ahsoka’s collar, which, true to his prediction, had been secured around her neck the moment Skywalker had ‘gifted’ her to the queen. The lock was simple; it only took a quick mental push at just the right spot to get it to spring loose. Ahsoka didn’t even react. She probably hadn’t noticed, but all he’d have to do now was just yank it off. 

He edged a bit closer to the rail as Skywalker stepped out into the arena to the cheers of the crowd. It made him sick, that this was considered entertainment. These people--these  _ animals _ \-- considered another being’s pain worth celebrating, considered other beings property that could be bought and sold. Consciously uncurling his fists, he propped his foot up on the railing so that it’d be easier to grab his blaster.

Artoo rolled up next to him, and Ezra shot the droid a commiserating look. Below them, Skywalker was standing on the platform behind Obi-Wan, who, despite kneeling with his hands behind his back, was clearly ready to move when the inevitable fight broke out.

As the crowd echoed the cry, “Whip the Jedi!” Skywalker looked up at the balcony where they were standing. The queen--if she’d said her name, Ezra didn’t remember it--gave what was probably meant to be a warm smile, but it was too sinister to be anything close to inviting.

“Prove to me you are a slaver. Swing that whip, or die beside him!” She called down.

Skywalker glanced around the arena, meeting Ezra’s eyes at one moment. Ezra gave him a small nod, and Skywlaker smirked. “You leave me no choice, Highness,” he said, activating the whip as he gave a low bow.

Artoo opened a compartment in his dome, and Ezra closed his hand around his blaster, taking another deep breath as he pinpointed his targets. Below them, Skywalker gave a cocky two-fingered salute, and Ezra’s brain short-circuited for a second, stuck twenty years in the future.

For a moment, it could have been Hera behind him in the slave outfit and Chopper beside him, with Sabine waiting in the wings to light the place up. Instead of Obi-Wan, it was Zeb kneeling in the middle of the arena, and instead of Skywalker...

Belatedly, he shook himself, just as Skywalker raised the whip, only to turn around and use it on one of the two guards. At the exact same time, Obi-Wan launched himself at the other, throwing him off the platform. Ezra yanked the blaster out of his boot and immediately began taking down the guards crowding the walkways, shooting down into the arena, while Artoo sent Skywalker’s and Obi-Wan’s lightsabers down into the arena, where Skywalker caught them effortlessly.

Remembering that Ahsoka didn’t know she could take her collar off, Ezra whipped around and grabbed it, getting it off with one quick tug. She had already taken down the two guards by the door; the moment the collar was off, she grabbed her lightsabers from Artoo and deflecting the blasterbolts from the last guard directly into his chest.

Together, he and Ahsoka rounded on the Zygerrian Queen, who curled her lip as Ahsoka shoved her ‘saber into her face. “Looks like your slave empire is finished,” Ahsoka said arrogantly, right as a bone-chilling feeling swept through Ezra.

He turned to face the arena and felt his stomach drop as Rex fell from one of the walkways to hit the ground below. The clone didn’t get up. 

_ “Rex!” _ He screamed, launching himself off of the balcony. He used the Force to cushion his landing, tucking himself into a somersault to bleed off the rest of his momentum and coming up with his blaster ready.

He immediately dropped two guards before another got a lucky shot in on Obi-Wan, who fell to the ground with a cry. Skywalker was standing on top of the platform, his lightsaber in one hand deflecting the slavers’ blasterbolts and whips and an inactivated whip in the other, lashing out at the slavers who ventured too close.

Ezra dashed over to where Rex was lying prone on the ground, his helmet having fallen off when he fell. Jamming his fingers into the pulse point in his neck, Ezra breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a heartbeat, but the feeling was short-lived as a whip cracked over his head and he had to duck. 

The gate into the arena had opened again and more guards had poured in, splitting up to circle both him and Skywalker. Ezra gritted his teeth, crouching over Rex to make himself a smaller target as he took potshots at the dozen or so guards surrounding him. Their whips cracked overhead, and he yelped as he tried to dodge, but on his knees it was difficult to move quickly enough. 

Skywalker wasn’t faring too much better. Out of the corner of his eye, Ezra saw a whip wrap around the Jedi’s wrist, making him drop his whip with a scream. He heard Ahsoka call for her master from above them, and he hoped she’d have the sense to use the Zygerrian queen as a bargaining chip. They were running out of time and options.

Another whip landed a blow on his shoulder, and he yelped as his arm went numb, making him drop his blaster. With a growl, he launched himself at the nearest Zygerrian, landing a solid blow in his solar plexus and making him drop, completely winded. He whirled on the next one as Skywalker screamed again behind him, and he risked a glance over his shoulder.

His heart sank as he saw Skywalker collapse, his lightsaber rolling out of his hand. The Zygerrians closest to him smirked, clearly thinking he was going to surrender now that both Jedi were down, but he just threw himself at the closest two, disarming them and slamming their heads together with enough force to make their skulls rattle. They dropped, but before he could try to take on any more of the guards, a cord wrapped itself around his throat. It tightened cruelly, cutting off his air supply, and he grabbed at it uselessly as he fell to his knees, gasping as he tried to breathe.

Hot breath on his neck made him flinch as the Zygerrian behind him growled, but his voice was just an indistinct rumble as the edges of Ezra’s vision went black. Desperately, he scrambled at the cord--probably a deactivated whip, a distant part of him realized--trying to free himself so he could  _ breathe,  _ but it was useless. Vaguely, he felt his hands fall before the cord was finally removed and he could breathe, but it was too late. The ground was rushing up to meet him as he passed out.

_______

Rex woke slowly. His head was throbbing, immediately telling him he’d hit it when he’d passed out, and his back ached fiercely. He let out a quiet groan as he lifted his head. He was sitting, propped up in a seat. Looking down, he realized his hands were cuffed together, and the cuffs were linked to the ones on the people on either side of him.

To his left, Ezra was slumped in a seat, clearly unconscious with deep purple bruising blooming in a ring around his neck. To his right, General Kenobi was thankfully awake, glaring at someone, a slaver that Rex didn’t notice until he followed the general’s gaze. The Zygerrian noticed Rex, and chuckled.

“Looks like the clone is awake,” he called into the doorway behind him, which must have led to the rest of the ship. They were in a small cargo hold of some sort, the three of them and the guard the only ones inside. A few crates were strapped down against one wall, and a couple of empty cages against the other. 

General Kenobi glanced at him at the guard’s pronouncement. He didn’t look any better than he had in the arena, dirty and beat up, but there was a defiant light in his eyes that told Rex things could be worse.

From beyond the doorway, another Zygerrian called, “You should probably collar them, now that they’re starting to wake up.” The guard in the room leered at Rex and the general as he grabbed three collars from a hook on the wall.

Rex glanced at the general, who gave a minute nod. The guard opened one of the collars, about to put it around Rex’s neck, and he quickly headbutted the Zygerrian in the face, making him stumble back with a yelp of pain as he clutched his broken nose. Rex and Kenobi jumped to their feet, preparing to attack the guard, but Rex didn’t make it two steps before his chains went taut. He glanced back at Ezra, who still hadn’t moved, and that split second of hesitation was all the guard needed. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Rex saw the guard press a button on his gauntlet, and instantly pain shot through his arms from the cuffs on his wrists. He fell to his knees, a strangled cry escaping him despite his best attempts to keep silent. Kenobi stumbled, too, going to his knees as sparks leapt from the cuffs to their arms.

Rex had been shot, cut, nearly blown up and had broken more bones than he could count, but in that moment, he would swear being electrocuted hurt worse. Behind him, he heard Ezra groan, and a quick glance showed him that the kid was seizing as his cuffs sparked, too. 

He gritted his teeth before the pain suddenly cut out, leaving him and Kenobi panting as the guard smirked down at them.”Now, let’s try that again,” the guard said, and before Rex could shove him away or fight back, cold metal closed around his neck. Kenobi was similarly shackled, and Rex hung his head in defeat as the guard stepped past him to collar Ezra. A kick to the ribs made him get up and stumble back to the seat he’d woken up in, the general following his example.

Thankfully, the guard stepped out now that he was sure they were secure, and Rex turned to Kenobi. “What happened?”

General Kenobi shrugged, sighing. “After you were knocked out? I’m not sure, I was taken down shortly after. I think it’s safe to assume we were all captured, though.”

Rex ignored the urge to roll his eyes, instead focusing on the room around them and frowning. “Where’re General Skywalker and Ahsoka?”

“I don’t know,” Kenobi said, sounding tired as he sat back, leaning his head against the wall behind him. “They aren’t on the ship, and I know they’re still alive, but they could be anywhere in the galaxy.”

Rex nodded, taking the general’s word for it. He could probably tell through the Force, or something like that, but since Rex was far from an expert on that subject, he didn’t bother asking to know for certain. 

Instead, he looked over at Ezra, who looked like he was starting to wake up. A small frown was making his eyebrows furrow, and as Rex watched, he let out a small moan.

“Hey,” Rex said, nudging the general, “I think he’s waking up.”

Sure enough, a minute later, Ezra’s eyes fluttered open, and he let out another groan, lifting a hand to his forehead before dropping it to his neck. The moment his hand landed on the collar, he straightened, looking panicked before he noticed Rex sitting next to him, and General Kenobi behind Rex, looking on with concern.

Ezra muttered a curse in Ryl, his voice hoarse, before slumping back into his seat. “We got caught.”

It wasn’t a question, but Rex nodded anyway. “How’s your neck?”

Ezra grimaced. “Hurts to swallow.” He paused, then added, “And to talk.” Massaging his throat as best he could with the collar in the way, he glanced over at him and Kenobi, a clear question on his face.

“We’re fine,” Rex answered, then reconsidered, “Well, we’re banged up, but we’ll live.”

Ezra nodded, and Kenobi asked, “Did you see what happened to Anakin and Ahsoka?”

“Skywalker got knocked out. Couldn’t see Ahsoka.” Ezra rasped, and Kenobi sent him a pitying look.

“Try not to talk. You need to let your throat recover.”

Ezra pulled a face, but nodded. Looking at Rex, he used a hand sign, one that Rex knew to mean ‘where?’ before running a hand over his right eye to symbolize General Skywalker’s scar, and Rex understood the question.

“We don’t know. General Kenobi says they’re not here, but they’re alive. At the moment, though, we don’t even know where we are.”

Ezra nodded to show his understanding, and sat back, closing his eyes. Rex did the same. It wasn’t like they could do anything else except wait, and something told Rex that this might be the last chance they got to rest for a while.

It was maybe an hour later when the ship lurched to a stop. Instantly, Rex sat up on full alert, watching the door warily. Beside him, Kenobi and Ezra both sat forward, ready to move, but Rex wasn’t certain attacking now would be the best option. They were chained to each other, and their cuffs were electrified, and he’d bet good money that the collars were, too. Better to wait until they were at least no longer chained to each other so they could move freely.

The door hissed open and four guards stepped through. Rex smirked slightly. They weren’t underestimating them in the slightest, but that probably had more to do with the Jedi Master in their midst than him and Ezra. 

One of the guards stepped forward, snarling at them as he uncurled an electrowhip. “Get up. Single file, out the door. Any funny business, and it won’t be you at the end of the whip.”

Confused, Rex frowned slightly, glancing at the others on either side of him as they reluctantly complied. General Kenobi took the lead. As soon as he passed through the door into the main cargo bay--what they’d been in must have been in a smaller storage room--he understood exactly who the guard had been threatening. There were cages lining the walls, sunk into the floor, and suspended from the ceiling, and behind the bars frightened Togrutas peered out, huddled together in groups of five or six.

Rex felt sick looking at them. They were covered in dirt, tear stains evident on most of their faces, and they all looked so scared, shrunk in on themselves like they were trying to collapse, as if that could protect them. As another guard pulled a group out of its cage, though, Rex knew that nothing could protect these people from the Zygerrian monsters. Nothing they could do, nothing he could do. He’d never felt more helpless.

Behind him, Ezra lurched toward the group being pulled out of their cage as the Zygerrian towering over them cracked his whip over their heads, catching the tips of their montrals and making them all flinch in pain. Ezra didn’t get very far, though, the chain connecting his cuffs to Rex’s stopping him before he got more than two steps. The guard noticed his attempt to approach, though, and sneered at him before bringing the whip down on the Togrutas’ backs, never breaking eye contact as he did.

Ezra let out a strangled sound in protest, and Rex quickly stepped on his foot, shooting a look over his shoulder to tell Ezra to stop. He knew the slavers’ play: any time they made an attempt to escape or disobeyed, it would be the Togrutan colonists who paid the price. They had to wait for a better opportunity.

Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to watch as a Togruta boy who couldn’t have been that much older than Ezra received a harsh kick to the ribs when the slaver didn’t think he was getting up quickly enough. Behind him, Ezra was still straining against the chains, clearly wanting to help, but he at least seemed to understand that there would be consequences to his actions that wouldn’t fall on his head. 

In front of him, Rex could see the tension in General Kenobi’s posture; walking past this was hard for all of them, but it seemed to be hitting the Jedi especially hard. It was possible he could sense their fear and pain through the Force--he was pretty sure that was something Jedi could do--so fighting the urge to interfere would be even harder.

Rex gritted his teeth. If this was what the Zygerrians had planned for them, it was going to be the worst kind of torture. Helping those around them had been ingrained into his DNA, if not from birth then from the years spent fighting alongside his Jedi. Having to suppress and ignore that instinct… this was going to be a special hell for all of them.

A guard shoved Ezra forward, knocking him into Rex, who barely managed to keep his feet. Still, they understood the unspoken order and reluctantly trudged out of the ship onto a landing platform. There, Rex had to blink as the harsh sunlight stung his eyes. If his hands had been free, he would have shielded his eyes, but as it was, he had to squint in order to see his surroundings.

Zygerrian guards stood by, watching with malicious expressions as rows of Togrutas were unloaded from the ship they were on. Even taking into account the dirty brown cast the polluted sky gave everything here, they looked filthy, exhausted, and broken. Whips cracking overhead made them flinch every time, and Rex had to fight back the surge of pity and anger that made him want to drive his fist into the face of the nearest Zygerrian.

But he knew full well there was nothing he could do at the moment. His hands were tied--literally and metaphorically--and with the threat of violence to the very people he would be trying to help, he couldn’t interfere. 

Yet. He had to hope the Zygerrians would be confident enough--arrogant enough--to make mistakes. People who saw themselves as the builders of an empire tended to be the type whose fall would come from pride. He just had to hope that carried from the head honchos all the way down to the prison guards.

He also had to hope, he realized as he was prodded toward the entrance to the facility they’d landed in front of, that someone from the Republic would figure out that something had gone wrong on the mission and would send help. Even if he, Ezra, and General Kenobi were able to break out  _ and _ get all the prisoners to safety by themselves, there was only a very slim chance they’d be able to storm Zygerria, find out where General Skywalker and Ahsoka were being held,  _ and _ break them out without backup. 

In other words, they were either going to get backup, or they were stuck here. Watching Kenobi flinch as one of the guards delivered a brutal beating to one of the prisoners, who’d stumbled, Rex decided he didn’t want to think about what would happen if they were stuck here. 

In front of them, the doors hissed open, and the guards prodded them into the facility. Rex shuddered as they passed into the cold and significantly darker hallway. Behind him, he heard Ezra take a shaky breath, and he glanced behind him, trying to reassure the younger human without saying anything, but as he watched the doors close behind them, he felt the half smile he’d had on slip away, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they’d ever see sunlight again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick notes: Hadn't rewatched the episodes (other than a few snippets, such as the scene in the arena), so obviously some things are a bit different than they were in the show. Sorry if that bugs you. Also, Ryl is another name for the language of the Twi'leks (who are from RYLoth), it just sounds better to me than Twi'leki, so it's what I used.  
> There will be a chapter next week, I promise. Thank you so much for reading!


	8. In the Name of Being Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how about yesterday's episode? I won't say anything spoiler-y for those of you that haven't been able to see it, but... oh my stars Ahsoka called Anakin her older brother I can die happy.  
> In regards to this chapter... sheesh. Heroes' journeys can be tracked in an arc, and this is definitely the lowest part of that arc. It was rough writing it, and in all honesty, it might be a bit rough reading it. Warnings for blood, graphic depictions of injury... it's the Kadavo arc without the kids' show filter and the real reason this part of the series is rated teen. I promise this is as bad as it's going to get, though.

Ezra knew the minute he’d woken up in the transport ship that this was going to suck massively. It took him a little over a week to understand just how much it was going to suck.

He clenched his teeth, biting back a yelp as his collar zapped him. Quickly he grabbed the pick he’d set to the side for a split second and got back to swinging it. His hands and back ached from the constant manual labor, and sweat made his blacks, the clothes they’d left him with, cling to his back.

The cavern they were working in was unbearably hot and humid, a result of the furnaces smelting the ore they were mining. Almost all of them were panting, trying not to breathe through their mouths to keep from drying it out even faster, but the dust that hung in the air made breathing through their noses feel like they were suffocating. 

Another swing of the pick, and his hands screamed in protest. He cursed as he felt one of the blisters there split open, leaving it raw and exposed to the filthy air. Beside him, one of the Togrutas, an adult male, gave him a sympathetic look, but Ezra knew the drill by now. You couldn’t help anyone else, or both of you would be punished. He’d learned that one quickly. It just wasn’t worth it to make them get hurt worse.

Still, that was probably easier for him to follow than for Obi-Wan. Ezra’s time on the streets of Lothal had gotten him used to looking out for himself first, even if his time on the  _ Ghost _ had basically erased that instinct. Obi-Wan had no such experience. Every day, he’d been caught trying to help another prisoner and had been forced to watch as the person he’d been trying to help was whipped within an inch of their life. 

Not that Ezra could really blame him. He’d done the same a couple times, and had been similarly punished. Rex hadn’t; he’d seemed to understand the rules immediately, and thus hadn’t been punished that way. That’s not to say that he didn’t do what he could. Ezra’d caught him a time or two giving a bit of his food rations to some of the younger colonists and the women. Thankfully the guards hadn’t caught on.

Speaking of the clone, Ezra could see him just a few feet to his right, slaving over the wall with about six or seven of the colonists they’d been caught trying to rescue. His face was almost as stony as the rock they were chipping away at, but Ezra could tell, both through the Force and from his body language, that Rex was in almost as much discomfort as he was. Obi-Wan was somewhere behind them, gathering the loose rock the miners knocked free.

The piece of the wall he’d been working on broke away, nearly falling on his feet, and one of the other workers came to drag it over to the cart while he resumed swinging. He could swear the pick splintered slightly at every strike, because the palms of his hands stung in a way that didn’t feel like blisters. His arms shook at another blow, and he might have let himself collapse if it weren’t for the threat of the punishment being given to someone else.

Behind him, the sound of rock hitting the ground echoed out, and Ezra risked a look over his shoulder. A few feet away, the Togruta who’d taken away the chunk of ore he’d carved out had dropped it trying to lift it into the cart. He was now on the ground, moaning slightly in pain and clutching the leg the rock had slammed into on its way down.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Ezra quickly looked back at his work, ignoring the urge to look back at the poor Togruta. The Zygerrian guard leared, cracking his whip threateningly, but didn’t even bother saying anything before bringing it down on the Togruta’s back. Ezra had to close his eyes and bite his lip to keep from reacting as the whip cracked again and again and  _ again… _

Instead of the sharp  _ snap _ of the whip on the colonist’s back, there was a different sound, followed by a grunt. Ezra’s eyes snapped open and he quickly looked behind him, only for his heart to plummet as he took in the sight.

Obi-Wan was standing between the guard and the Togruta, the whip wrapped around his wrist, sending arcs of electricity through his body. Somehow, the Jedi kept standing, staring at the Zygerria without a shred of fear. The Zygerrian immediately snarled, yanking the whip out of Obi-Wan’s grasp, tugging him slightly off balance, but the Jedi straightened quickly.

“That’s enough,” Obi-Wan’s voice had brought armies to a halt, but right now, Ezra could hear it shaking, and he bit his tongue, forcing himself to stay still and quiet even though he wanted to tackle him to the ground and scream in his face,  _ what are you thinking? _

The Togruta behind Obi-Wan was clearly thinking something similar, looking up at him in abject fear. Seven days here, and Obi-Wan still didn’t get the picture: they couldn’t help the others. Trying to do so made it worse, how did the Jedi not see that?

The Zygerrian took a few menacing steps forward, sneering in Obi-Wan’s face before pressing a button on his gauntlet. Instantly, Obi-Wan fell to his knees, clutching at his collar as it lit up, a hoarse scream echoing through the caverns. Ezra felt sick that no one really reacted. Everyone here had just gotten so used to it that there was no point looking up to see who was being targeted.

Remembering that he was supposed to be working, Ezra forced himself to turn back to the wall, heaving his pick over his head, only to drop it with a cry as pain cut across his back. On either side of him, the other prisoners similarly yelped, some of them dropping to the ground and curling up in an attempt to hide as the Zygerrian turned his attention from Obi-Wan and the one Togruta to the dozen or so prisoners lined up against the wall.

The Zygerrian brought the whip down again, and Ezra bit back a scream, fighting to stay upright and  _ keep working. _ The guards here used any excuse to take out their anger issues on the prisoners, so any slacking, even if he was being punished already, would just make them take it out on him and those around him  _ more. _

He heard the whip crack again and instinctively flinched, waiting for the inevitable blow, but before it came down, something slammed into him from the side, knocking him to the ground and covering him as the other prisoners cried out. He looked up as the whip cracked again to see Rex crouched over him, flinching but not making a sound as the whip came down.

_ Why? _ Ezra met Rex’s eyes--or tried to, the clone was avoiding looking at him--hoping his expression would convey his confusion and horror. Why was Rex acting like his shield? Ezra had been lying to him since they’d met, and had only barely apologized for it. The clone had made no attempts to hide how disappointed he was in Ezra. By all rights, Rex should hate him, not be trying to protect him. 

The whip didn’t come down again, and Ezra let himself breathe a sigh of relief. Rex finally looked down at him, giving him a small smile which Ezra was about to return when a hand clamped around his ankle. He yelped as the guard dragged him out of the mass of bodies against the wall.

“So you think you can protect this little bilge-rat?” The Zygerrian said, as he hauled Ezra off the ground by his collar. Ezra choked, the metal digging into his windpipe. He met Rex’s eyes as the Zygerrrian shook him. The clone looked terrified, and instinctively Ezra started kicking at the Zygerrian, because if something was scaring Rex then he needed to fight it, Rex didn’t get scared unless something bad was about to happen--

The Zygerrian dropped him, and he yelped again as he slammed into the ground. Distantly, he heard both Rex and Obi-Wan shouting, but he was too busy coughing and gasping for air to bother paying attention to what exactly they were saying. The Zygerrian above him was saying something, too, but, dazed, he didn’t pay any attention until the unmistakable sound of a whip crackling to life made him look up. The guard leered at him before bringing the whip down on his back.

A scream tore from his throat as white-hot pain slashed across his back. His knees and forearms dug into the gravel as he tried to make himself as small as possible, but the whip coming down again made him writhe in pain, leaving him sprawled out on the dirt.

He didn’t know how many times the guard whipped him--he lost count after five, too busy trying not to scream because he didn’t want them to know how much he was hurting. The electricity from the whip made his muscles seize; those seizures pulled the welts apart. He could feel the blood making his blacks stick to his skin, and had to bite his lip to keep from throwing up.

An eternity later, the whipping finally stopped, and Ezra let out a small whimper of relief that was cut off by a boot his his ribs, knocking him back a bit. Coughing, he let his head hit the ground. He wasn’t sure he could move if he wanted to. 

Another kick told him he didn’t have an option, though, and he carefully hauled himself up to his feet, sucking in a sharp breath as the movement pulled at the blistered and broken skin of his back. Gingerly, he walked back over to the wall, where he’d dropped his pick. The sound of the whip cracking behind him made him flinch as the Zygerrian got impatient, and he grabbed the pick.

As he got back to work, fighting both the urge to scream and the fuzziness of his vision, he could feel Rex’s concern and guilt radiating through the Force. Obi-Wan’s presence was still shielded, but even then he could feel his concern leaking through the cracks. He couldn’t say anything, though, to tell them it wasn’t their fault or that he was fine. 

He wasn’t fine, he knew that, he wasn’t anywhere close to fine, but they needed to focus, make sure they didn’t give the Zygerrians another reason to dole out a beating.

The rest of the day passed in a haze, a constant cycle of swinging and pain and trying not to scream, until finally the loud voices of the guards told him it was time to go back to the barracks.

He didn’t remember much of the trip back, just shuddering from the blast of cold air that hit him as he walked into the large room and wondering why they weren’t being fed that night. The metal shelves rose up on either side of him, but rather than try to climb up to one of the taller ones, he just collapsed onto one of the ones at chest height.

A hand on his back made him yelp and twist around. Rex was hanging down from the shelf right above him, a guilty expression on his face as he quickly pulled his hand away.

“Sorry, just trying to see if you were still bleeding,” Rex whispered. Ezra glanced around, noting that Obi-Wan had taken the ‘bunk’ by his head, then looked back at Rex, hoping that the guards wouldn’t be able to hear them where they were.

“Just leave it, Rex. I’m fine.” His voice was hoarse, whether from the way the collar had dug into his throat or from the screaming, he didn’t know. All he knew was that it sounded awful.

Rex scowled. “No you’re not, you’re bleeding and on the verge of passing out. We need to patch you up.”

“As mush as I agree with you, we shouldn’t touch it,” Obi-Wan finally spoke up, keeping his voice just barely audible. “As it is, the open wounds might get infected, and our hands can hardly be considered sanitary.”

“He’s still bleeding,” Rex argued.

“And we have nothing to use as a bandage, not for a wound that big,” Obi-Wan shot back. Even with their voices at such a low level, they were still making Ezra’s head pound, and he raised a hand weakly.

“Rex, I’ll be fine. I just need to rest. Please,” He whispered, ignoring the fact that a tear was leaving a trail on his temple. From his position on his side, it was hard to get a good read on Rex’s expression, especially considering that the man was upside down, but the clone nodded and pulled himself up onto his ‘bed,’ leaving him and Obi-Wan with their heads huddled together. 

He felt a ridiculous smile spread across his face as a memory popped up: the whole crew having an impromptu sleepover in the common room of the  _ Ghost, _ after Chopper had done something awful to the ventilation system in all of the bunks. Him and Sabine with their heads together, laughing at how the two older males were snoring until Hera had demanded to know why they were gossiping like teenage girls. Protesting because he was  _ not _ gossiping like a teenage girl,  _ thank you very much, Hera, _ while Sabine giggled even harder.

This was about as far as he could get from the warmth and safety of the  _ Ghost,  _ though. It was just that with Obi-Wan as close as he was, the memory of whispered jokes was too close. 

Obi-Wan was frowning right now, though, so Ezra forced himself to drag his mind back to the present. 

“Are you alright?” The Jedi asked softly, and Ezra nodded, turning so that he wasn’t having to strain his neck in order to see him.

“Fine. Just, funny memory,” he whispered, letting a whisper of the smile come back. 

Obi-Wan’s expression softened slightly and he patted Ezra’s arm. “Get some sleep. Memories will keep till we get out of here.”

Ezra nodded and curled up, biting his lip as the wounds on his back stretched. There wasn’t anything he could do about them, though, except hope it would be better in the morning.

_______

It only seemed to get worse the longer they were there. Rex winced as another long scream echoed through the cavern, fighting the urge to drop his shovel and run over to where Ezra was being beaten. Instead, he forced himself to tighten his grip, wondering what exactly they were punishing him for this time. Based on the fact that the screams were drawn out, not the short, intermittent cries that indicated the Zygerrians were using a whip, he guessed they were just shocking him.

He felt nauseous. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that he could tell how they were torturing Ezra based on his screams, the fact that he thought of it as ‘just’ electrocution, or the fact that he wasn’t dropping everything to stop it.

It had only been twelve days since they’d gotten here, five since the Zygerrians had realized that using Ezra as leverage worked really well to get both himself and General Kenobi to obey. Since then, they’d kept the kid close to one of the two of them, so that whenever they ‘misbehaved’ they’d be able to see Ezra being punished. 

Right now, he was with Obi-Wan. He usually was. Rex wasn’t sure if that was because Obi-Wan disobeyed more often than he did, or if they were just more focused on breaking the Jedi. It was probably the latter. The longer they’d been here, the less often Obi-Wan acted out, either because he was trying to save Ezra pain, or because the Zygerrians were actually starting to break him. 

Rex had to wonder what the general had done this time that the guards didn’t like. Had he said something? Stumbled? Faltered slightly? Rex had been punished for worse. Well, he’d been forced to watch--and listen--as Ezra was punished. After that first beating they’d only used the whip once. Every other time it was electrocution. Probably didn’t want to tear his body up too much. 

Not that Ezra cared. He might scream when they tortured him--Force, he  _ screamed-- _ but he didn’t beg, he didn’t ask them to stop, he just kept on going like it didn’t matter. As soon as it was over, he hauled himself up, shrugged off their quiet attempts to apologize and make sure he was alright, and started working again.

They begged, though. They’d been forced to a couple of times, in order to get the Zygerrians to stop. It gave them some sort of sick pleasure to see the “great General Kenobi” on his knees. At least, that’s what Rex gathered from the Overseer, who had come to ‘watch them work’ a couple of times. In all honesty, he was there to gloat, taking extreme pleasure in making sure they knew just how pointless trying to resist was. It made Rex want to smash his fist into the tubby Zygerrian’s smug little face.

Not that he could. If he made half a move toward the Overseer, the guards would stun him, then beat on Ezra until the kid stopped screaming or passed out. 

Speaking of which, the god-awful screams had finally stopped echoing through the mine, leaving a heavy silence broken only by the soft grunts of the slaves and the clang of rock against the shovels. Either Ezra had passed out or they’d decided he’d had enough. Force, he hoped it was the former. The kid needed a break, even one in the form of unconsciousness.

It was right as the thought crossed his mind that another scream tore through the cavern, nearly making him drop his shovel. He wasn’t the only one; the few Togrutas he could see similarly shuddered, glancing over their shoulders. The screams that had come before were noticeably human; this one was raw and so full of  _ pain _ it took a moment for Rex to realize that it was the same person making the sound.

What had they done? 

The hiss of one of the guard’s prods made him get back to work, but all his focus was on the tunnel behind him, where the scream had come from. It was dead silent now, and his grip tightened on the shovel as he fought back the instinctive urge to drop everything and make sure Ezra was alright. Because even though the screams meant Ezra was being hurt, they at least let him know that he was alive. Now, with the eerie, heavy silence ringing in his ears, there was no way of knowing if that last scream was the sound of Ezra dying.

Less than a minute later, a single person’s footsteps sounded from the tunnel, and Rex had to force himself to keep his eyes on his work and not whirl around to see who was coming. The steps were leisurely, not timid or rushed, so Rex knew it was a Zygerrian, not a Togruta or Obi-Wan. 

The footsteps came to a stop behind him. “You. Clone,” the word was said with a sneer, the exact same sneer the guards used for the word ‘slave.’ A voice in the back of Rex’s head wondered bitterly if there had ever been a difference. Telling the voice to shut up, he turned to face the guard, keeping his eyes on the guard’s hands. “Come with me,” the guard ordered.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified when the guard led the way through the tunnel towards where Ezra and Obi-Wan were working. On the one hand, he’d be able to see if they were alright or not; on the other, he couldn’t think of any reason for the guards to move him from where he had been working, unless they had something planned.

As they walked Rex caught himself looking out of the corner of his eye at the slaves working away at the walls, being sure to avoid looking at the guards. The ground was fine, but if the guards caught him looking at them, they’d take that as a sign of aggression and retaliate. This place was a minefield; one wrong move and they would explode in someone else's face. But that didn’t stop him from checking on the colonists he could see. 

They looked awful. All the color had either vanished due to lack of sunlight or hidden by layers of grime. Their clothing hung off of them loosely, a result of the malnutrition they had all been subjected to since they got here. But the worst part of their appearance was the deadness in the gaze of every single man and woman there. They’d given up hope. Probably had given up hope well before the three of them had shown up and turned them into little more than pawns. It wasn’t fair to them, and the sight made Rex’s stomach turn. This was all so wrong. They had set out to make things better, but somehow had made things so much worse.

His escort glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was still following, and Rex quickly returned his gaze to the ground in front of him, hoping the guard hadn’t noticed him checking on the other slaves. The guard just sniggered slightly as they rounded a corner into a larger corridor. Rex wanted so badly to throttle him, but he managed to keep his hands to his side as he spotted Obi-Wan across the corridor to his left. He didn’t spot Ezra immediately.

Obi-Wan looked up as he swung his pick and his eyes widened. On anyone else, his expression would have looked worried. On Obi-Wan, it looked outright panicked. Quickly the Jedi glanced at something on the ground, but the Zygerrian who was leading Rex was blocking his view of whatever it was. Rex’s stomach churned in fear as he tried to see around the guard. He caught a glimpse of Ezra lying on the ground, not moving, before the guard stopped and roughly shoved him forward. He stumbled but managed to keep his feet.

“Here,” the guard sneered behind him, “clean up this mess.”

Rex’s breath caught as he stared at the kid sprawled out on his back next to a chunk of rock about the size of an astromech. He’d passed out with his face turned away from Rex—at least, Rex hoped he’d just passed out. He couldn’t tell from here if the kid was even breathing.

Another shove forward reminded him he couldn’t just stand there, and he scrambled forward, trying desperately to keep his face expressionless as he quickly knelt next to Ezra. Last time he’d seen the kid, this morning when the slavers had herded them out of their barracks, he’d looked bad. Ezra’s skin had lost its natural tan and he’d lost weight (he wasn’t the only one; Obi-Wan’s cheekbones were more prominent under his beard, and Rex didn’t want to think about how much his own clothing was hanging off of him), but he hadn’t looked this bad.

Unconscious, he somehow seemed thinner and paler. His collar had shifted, too, giving Rex a clear view of the bright red scarring on his neck from the repeated shocks. On top of that, he was barely breathing, his chest only moving enough to let Rex know he was still alive.

Worst of all, though, the large chunk of rock Rex had thought had been resting next to him was instead pinning Ezra’s left arm. Everything below the elbow was hidden, presumably crushed by the heavy weight of the rock. Quickly deciding he needed to move the rock first, he heaved it off, only to blanch when he actually looked at it. He had seen the blood slowly pooling out from under the rock, giving him some idea of how bad it was, but that still didn’t prepare him for the sight that greeted him.

From the elbow down was already bruised and swelling where it hadn't been scraped raw, the limb twisted in a way that human limbs weren’t supposed to twist. The bones must have splintered, because bits of them were sticking out of Ezra’s arm, having shredded his skin. The moment the rock was no longer putting pressure, blood started spilling out of the myriad cuts and punctures, quickly staining the dirt red.

Rex swore mentally and threw the rock to the side as best he could before kneeling next to Ezra and trying to staunch the bleeding, but putting pressure on Ezra’s arm made the bone give in a way that it wasn’t supposed to, and Rex had to quickly turn his head away to gag.

Okay, so pressure wasn’t going to work. In fact, he’d probably just made things worse. Instead, he quickly tore off Ezra’s right sleeve and tied it as tight as he could above Ezra’s elbow as a rudimentary sort of tourniquet. His other sleeve was ripped and bloody, so it was useless. Rex pulled off his own belt—why he still had it, he had no idea, but he was grateful for it now—and used it as a sling to keep Ezra’s arm from moving too much. The bones ground together as he secured the arm, and he winced, glad for once that Ezra was unconscious for this.

That done, Rex sat back on his heels, not quite sure what to do next. He’d only had training in basic battlefield medicine, but he could tell Ezra needed an actual medic, and soon. A shattered bone could end up doing a lot more damage than the actual break itself did.

Rex chanced a look around the corridor, noting that Obi-Wan was watching them out of the corner of his eye. The moment the Jedi caught him looking, he sent a silent question, one Rex interpreted as  _ how is he.  _ Rex pressed his lips together grimly and Obi-Wan looked away quickly. Rex wanted to ask what had happened, but he knew that would have to wait until they were all sent back to the barracks. He couldn’t imagine what the Jedi must have done for the Zygerrians to mutilate Ezra’s arm like this.

Speaking of the Zygerrians, he felt more than heard one of the guards coming up behind him. Tensing but otherwise not moving, Rex kept his eyes on the ground as the guard ordered, “Get him to the barracks. You’re both done for the day.”

Rex breathed a quiet sigh of relief and glanced back at Obi-Wan, who nodded slightly to let him know he’d heard. Carefully, Rex picked Ezra up, wincing both at the small groan of pain Ezra let out, the first noise he’d made since Rex had gotten here, and at the heat radiating from Ezra’s back. They’d been checking on the wounds on his back every couple of days, and had noticed yesterday that they’d gotten slightly infected, but the heat Rex felt now told him it had gotten worse. A lot worse.

A guard followed behind him as he carefully made his way through the maze-like tunnels and into the actual facility where the barracks were. They passed the small room that served as the mess and Rex had to bite back a sigh. They’d both be going without food today. It wasn’t that big a deal for him, he’d trained himself not to need as much food as a person would ordinarily, but that also meant Ezra’d be going without, too, and he really couldn’t afford to lose more meals.

Ezra let out a groan as they crossed the threshold into the significantly colder barracks, and Rex shuddered even as he tightened his hold on the kid. The guard stopped in the doorway, smirking at him before closing the door, and Rex shot a scowl at the closed door. He didn't really expect any help from the Zygerrians; they clearly saw all the slaves, Ezra in particular, as expendable, good only as tools to break the more important prisoners, such as Obi-Wan, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have appreciated maybe some water or something to serve as bandages.

With a sigh, he decided he was lucky the Zygerrians had let him take care of Ezra at all and looked around for a place to set the kid down. The bunks were out; he didn’t want to have to lift Ezra and risk jostling his arm, and the lower bunks would give him a concussion every time he straightened. Noticing several overturned and broken tables in the corner off to the right of the door, Rex readjusted his grip on Ezra before carefully making his way over, trying not to trip on the uneven floor.

Ezra groaned again as Rex was setting him down behind some of the tables, which offered at least the illusion of privacy. The guard may not have entered the room, but Rex knew they were still being watched. Still, the area at least seemed clean and would keep the colonists from having to see any more of this than they already had. Force knows the sight was awful enough for him, a hardened soldier, but for civilians? He didn’t want to subject them to that.

Ezra let out another soft moan and Rex realized he was coming to. Propping him up against one of the tables, which was missing two legs and thus leaning at an angle, Rex knelt next to him, checking the tourniquet and grimacing when he found that it had loosened significantly. Undoing the improvised sling, he replaced the sleeve with the belt, deciding that the tourniquet was more important than the sling now that they'd stopped moving.

A soft gasp startled Rex as he cinched the belt as tight as it would go, and he looked up to see glassy blue eyes watching him in confusion. “Rex…?” Ezra’s voice was hoarse, as it always seemed to be now, and soft enough that Rex wasn’t completely sure he’d said anything.

Looking away, Rex ordered quietly, “Stay still. Don’t move your arm.”

“Which one?”

Rex looked back up in surprise, but Ezra seemed genuinely confused. Between the electrocution and the fever, he probably couldn’t tell which arm had been crushed—and was probably blocking that particular memory, at least unconsciously. “Left,” he answered shortly, and Ezra looked down at his arm in detached fascination. Rex grimaced and busied himself tearing both of Ezra’s sleeves into wide strips.

“I can’t feel it.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” Probably also a result of the tourniquet. He’d need to loosen it a bit so that he didn’t cut off blood flow entirely.

Ezra was quiet for a few more minutes before asking quietly, “What happened?”

Rex looked up and noted that Ezra looked and sounded a lot more coherent now. “Not sure. Heard you screaming and a guard came and got me, told me to take you to the barracks and here we are.”

Ezra frowned slightly, looking around. “Where’s Obi-Wan? And the colonists?”

“Still working,” Rex said as he started tying the strips together. Ezra’s arm still needed to be immobilized. If the kid couldn’t feel it, he’d probably forget and try to move it. Remembering the way the bone fragments had ground together, Rex grimaced again and glanced over at Ezra again. The kid was frowning at the ceiling, clearly trying to remember how he’d gotten here.

With another sigh, Rex finished tying the strips together and leaned over Ezra so he could loop the makeshift sling around his neck. “I need you to sit up,” he said when Ezra didn’t immediately move.

The kid leaned forward with a stifled whimper, and sat back as soon as Rex had the sling around him, breathing heavily. Rex carefully eased the arm into the sling making sure it was pinned to Ezra’s chest before sitting back and noticing that Ezra was watching him.

“One of the colonists collapsed,” Ezra said softly, and Rex frowned, not sure where he was going with this. “The guards wouldn’t leave her alone. Obi-Wan was about to try to intervene…” Ezra trailed off, staring off into space, and Rex had to resist the urge to groan. Of course he was. The stupid Jedi never learned.

Ezra suddenly blinked, seeming to regain his train of thought. “He would have made it worse, so… I dropped the rock. Got their attention away from the colonist. She couldn't have been that much older than Sabine.”

Rex had no idea who Sabine was, but he just made a mental note of the name and focused on the other pertinent thing he’d said. “Why would you do that?”

Ezra looked at him like he was the one being an idiot, but the sheen of sweat on his face and the glassy look in his eyes told the clone that the kid wasn’t quite as lucid as Rex had hoped. “They were hurting her. I dropped the rock, they hurt me instead. It’s better.”

Rex opened his mouth to argue—in what world was Ezra getting hurt a better option in any way—but knew that between Ezra’s inherent stubbornness and the fever, he wouldn’t be able to convince the kid of that. Instead, he just pursed his lips and checked Ezra’s fever, which had, indeed, spiked since that morning.

Great, add that to the list of things wrong with the kid physically. Mentally, Rex cursed himself. This was his fault. Oh, he might not have been the one swinging the whip or dropping the rock—although a closer inspection at the torn-up limb made him suspect it hadn’t just been dropped—but he was as much at fault as the ones who did. If he hadn’t tried to cover the kid, he wouldn’t be hurt as badly. Yes, he’d still have a few injuries from a whip because the Zygerrians didn’t care about collateral damage, but he wouldn’t be lying in a corner of the barracks, bleeding out and half out of his mind from a fever.

He shouldn’t have tried to cover Ezra… but at the same time, he couldn’t have _not_ covered him. The kid hadn’t tried to duck, or make himself smaller, or avoid the whip in any way. Yes, he was still mad at the kid, and yes, he had a right to be, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see him hurt. And now he was playing medic with the kid cradling an arm that had been ground to a pulp to his chest.

Rex swallowed hard as he stared at the mangled limb, guilt, horror and revulsion warring for dominance and all making his stomach churn. This was his fault. One stupid decision made under pressure, trying to keep the kid from getting hurt, and he’d ended up making things worse.

Force, was this how Ezra felt looking at him? He’d made the exact same kind of decision—only he’d made it with hundreds of thousands of more lives. How could Rex really blame him?

The kid shuddered suddenly, groaning slightly, and Rex glanced up.The kid was trying to roll over, probably trying to get the pressure off of his back. “Woah, woah, wait, what’re you doing?” Rex demanded, quickly grabbing the kid by his shoulders and trying to hold him still.

“Hurts… lying on my back hurts,” Ezra slurred as he kept trying to roll over. At least he had the sense to try to lie on his right side, so he wasn’t putting weight on his bad arm.

“Yeah, well, trying to move on your own like that’s going to split your back open again,” Rex retorted.

“‘S fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Rex insisted as he carefully settled the kid on his side. That put Ezra’s back to the door, which Rex found he didn’t mind much. It meant he could watch the door and Ezra at the same time. “You’ve already lost a lot of blood, and have an infection. Breaking those scabs open could make things worse. You could  _ die.” _

“‘S fine,” Ezra repeated a bit more insistently, then, more quietly, added, “I don’t care.”

Rex froze. Everything around him  _ froze.  _ His mind, his breath, the karking universe around him all stopped in their tracks. Because  _ what? _ What did he mean, he didn’t care? How could he not care that he could bleed out, or have his brain cooked from a fever? How could he not care that he was karking  _ dying? _

Rex blinked and the galaxy wasn’t frozen anymore. Of course Ezra didn’t care that he could die. He’d given up. Not on the galaxy, or on the war. On himself. On a happy ending. Kix’s warning to go easier on the kid suddenly made a lot more sense. He must know what the kid had going on inside his head.  _ A bit of warning would have been nice, vod, _ he thought before focusing on the issue at hand.

Ezra had been nigh on suicidal before this mission, probably before they found out about the chips, if Kix’s knowledge was any indication. Rex’s reaction couldn’t have helped. In fact, it could only have made things worse. On top of that, he’d made things worse here by putting a target on the kid’s back. He might as well have given Ezra a loaded blaster and told him to put it in his mouth.

Realizing that Ezra was watching him, eyes half-closed and teary, Rex straightened. “I care.”

Ezra’s brow furrowed slightly, and he blinked in confusion. “Why?”

“Because,” Rex said, somehow managing not to grit his teeth because  _ he shouldn’t have to spell this out, dammit,  _ “you’re my responsibility, and my friend, and Ahsoka would kill me if I let you die here. And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you died here.”  _ Because of me, _ he added mentally.

Ezra just frowned. “I thought you hated me.”

Rex rubbed his face, groaning. He really had screwed up, hadn’t he. “I was mad, kid. Still am, a bit, if I’m going to be honest. But no, I don’t hate you. You made what you thought was the best choice at the time, without knowing what the consequences were. I’ve done the same. I can’t hate you for doing exactly what I’ve done.”

Ezra didn’t look like he believed him, and honestly, Rex couldn’t blame him. Ezra had messed up big time with his handling of the chips. The idea that he really had been a slave his whole life ate at Rex almost as much as knowing that it was him and his brothers that murdered their  _ jetii _ did. Maybe he had never pulled the trigger on his general, but that didn’t stop him from feeling sick when he saw the blatant trust shining from Obi-Wan’s eyes, or the confidence in General Skywalker’s voice when he said Rex had his back. So yes, Ezra had messed up.

But so had he. He’d let the kid spiral this far. He’d lashed out at the kid instead of… instead of handling it  _ rationally, _ like he should have, even though rational thought had gone out the window the moment Kix had told them about the chips. And then, to top it all off, he’d tried to protect Ezra and had ended up getting him hurt worse. Force, after all that, he would have thought he hated the kid, too.

A soft sigh made him look up. Ezra had closed his eyes. Rex hoped he was going to get some sleep, but at the same time, dread curled around his heart as he watched the kid almost go limp. His breathing still wasn’t quite right, and if he didn’t make it… if Rex never got the chance to apologize—No. He couldn’t think like that. Ezra would stubborn his way out of this, just like he did everything else. There was no other option. General Skywalker and Ahsoka would come and get them out of here, and then Rex would have plenty of time to make it up to the kid aboard the  _ Resolute. _

On an impulse he grabbed Ezra’s wrist on his good arm and pressed his fingers into the pulsepoint there, finding some reassurance in the too-fast rhythm. With a frown, he realized it was also slightly unsteady, a hesitation between beats, but at least it was  _ there.  _ Kix could deal with the other problems as soon as General Skywalker got them out. Ezra just had to hold on until then.

It couldn’t be that much longer.


	9. Even After All Our History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter! Because I know you really wanted a break from the Kadavo storyline :D I kid. I'm sorry, I promise next week's chapter will finish up that storyline.  
> All of you guys are pestering me with questions and theories and I love it. Thank you guys so much for the support and attention! It's been an inspiration and I've changed a few things already because of some of your comments.

_ -Balmorra- _

_ -Three Days Ago- _

“Can I ask a personal question?”

Sabine looked up from where she was cleaning the mud off of her blasters. It was annoying how quickly the stuff built up on everything. She had tried to keep her armor--clone armor refitted for her more petite form--clean, but had given up after a day. Her blasters, though, she had to keep clean if she wanted them to stay functional, so she was currently sitting in the middle of the camp, scrubbing away. 

She wasn’t the only one. Most of the other clones around her were cleaning some sort of equipment, although they, like her, had long since given up on keeping certain things mud-free. Armor, tents--if it could function with a layer of mud on it, they left it. They simply didn’t have time to keep everything spotless.

Still, she set her rag down as she eyed the clone who’d asked the question. Her blasters could wait for now. “You can ask. I’ll decide whether or not to answer.”

The clone, Check, nodded like he had been expecting that answer and sat down across from her. From across the camp, Sabine could feel Kanan’s eyes focusing on them, and she almost shot him a glare. She understood why he was being paranoid--being surrounded by a literal legion of clones had to be hell for him, considering that he’d lived through Order Sixty-Six. Rex and his brothers had been one thing--Kanan had had time to adjust to their presences, build trust, but here, now, surrounded by clones in their prime who were the spitting image of the people he’d seen gun down his master… yeah, okay, she really shouldn’t be glaring at him. His over-protectiveness was just a bit suffocating sometimes.

So, shooting Kanan a reassuring look instead, she turned her attention back to Check. “Shoot.”

Check also glanced over at Kanan, looking nervous, before taking a steadying breath and asking, “What happened to the other Spectres?”

Sabine’s hands, which she’d been running over her pistols in a self-soothing manner, stilled, and she froze staring at the ground as she carefully fought back the urge to cry. 

They’d known that one of the risks of using their Spectre codenames was that numbers two through four were conspicuously absent. However, those were the codenames they were most familiar with, so they’d decided it didn’t really matter and had kept their old callsigns. 

That didn’t mean that she was prepared  _ at all _ for the question. Mentally she ran through a list of possible responses, from “there aren’t any” to “dead.” The problem with the first response was that she didn’t want to deny that they existed. For all she knew, they were in the past with her and Kanan, and just had never gotten to Lothal for whatever reason. The logical side of her, which sounded annoyingly like Kanan, told her that that was highly unlikely, but she didn’t want to lose hope completely. Not to mention the fact that her immediate reaction to the question almost entirely ruled that response out as believable.

The other response made her want to be sick, though. Wherever Hera and the others were in time and space, she knew they weren’t dead. She refused to believe that. Even if they were in the future, not the past, Sabine had to believe that after this was over, Kanan and she would find a way to get back to them. So saying they were dead when they weren’t just felt wrong.

She could take the very easy out that Check had offered, and she could see that he was about to let her, shifting in his seat and opening his mouth to say,  _ it’s fine, forget it. _ And she was very, very tempted to. But she knew these men had been trusting the two of them from the start, even knowing nothing about them. So before she could reconsider or talk herself out of it, she sighed. “We don’t know.”

Check jumped. She’d been quiet for so long, he’d almost definitely not been expecting her to answer, but his curiosity quickly overrode his surprise. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean exactly that,” she answered, picking up the rag again and resuming her cleaning, mostly just to give her hands something to do, and her eyes somewhere to go other than Check--or behind him, Kanan, who was still watching them like a hawk. “We were supposed to rendezvous somewhere, and… they never showed up. We don’t know if they got waylaid, or if… something worse happened.”

She didn’t look up to see Check’s reaction, but given the awkward pause, she assumed he was deciding whether or not to actually ask the next question. He apparently decided it was worth the risk of being shut out, and persisted. 

“Were they the rest of your family?” She looked up, frowning, and he shrugged. “It’d make sense, seeing as Spectre One is your father.”

Sabine took a deep breath. It wasn’t that Check was wrong. After Ezra’s identity crisis finding out that the Bridgers weren’t actually his family, Hera and Kanan had explained to both teens that they were more than happy to be their family. Eventually, that had led to both of the adults adopting Sabine according to the Mandalorian tradition--which led to a very interesting discussion when she finally made up with her family--meaning that technically speaking, Kanan was her father. 

It was just that in her head, her father was Aldrich Wren. Kanan was just… Kanan. Occasionally Dad, but usually she just used his name. 

On top of that baggage, there was the actual can of worms answering Check’s question could open. Did she really want to start talking about them? Just thinking about them made her ache with how much she missed them, how much she missed the  _ Ghost. _

Besides, why would it matter if Check--or the rest of the clones who were not-so-subtly listening in--knew about them? The most likely way Kanan and Sabine were ever going to see them again was if Kanan was able to figure out how to get them back to their timeline. As much as she wanted to hope that they were back here with them, she had to admit that it was unlikely. But since that was the only way, Check was never going to meet them. 

Clenching her jaw, she just nodded and stood, holstering her blasters and moving past Check without looking at him. The clones let her past, apparently recognizing that that was where she drew the line.

Kanan gave her a careful look as she came to stand next to him. He was leaning casually against a stack of crates no one had bothered moving, letting the wind whip his ponytail around as he kept a watchful eye on the camp.

“What was he asking you about?” He asked as she settled next to him against one of the crates.

Sabine shrugged nonchalantly, crossing her arms. “Nothing important.” Kanan shot her a disbelieving look and she grimaced. Right. Don’t try to lie to a Jedi. “He wanted to know about the other Spectres.”

Kanan flexed his jaw and looked away. While he drank up the stories about what they’d been up to while he’d been dead, he didn’t like to talk about what they would do when they got back. Every time she brought it up, he’d shut her down. It was infuriating.

And he was supposed to be the adult.

“What did they want to know?” Kanan’s question startled her, but she recovered quickly, shrugging again.

“Just the basics. What happened to them, who they were.”

“What’d you tell them?”

She looked over at him, not quite sure she liked his tone. Or the fact that he was carefully avoiding looking at her. “That we don’t know, and that they were family. Not like they need to know anything else.” At Kanan’s nod, she leaned forward so she could see his face better as she prompted, “Not like they’re going to be coming with us when we go back.”

“Sabine…” Kanan said, sounding tired.

She scoffed. “Oh, come on, you cannot seriously be considering staying here. Not when Hera, Ezra, and Jacen--you know? The son you haven’t gotten to meet yet?--are back there. The Jedi Order might exist here, still, but that cannot trump--”

“It’s not that I want to stay,” Kanan cut in, finally looking over at her. The pain in his expression made her do a double-take. “It’s that we  _ can’t _ go back.”

For a second she just stared at him. What did he mean,  _ can’t? _ She thought that word wasn’t in the Jedi dictionary. They did impossible stuff all the time. Was this some sort of duty thing, that since they’d changed things they had to see it all play out?

“Do you mean can’t, or shouldn’t?” She managed, and she could practically see something in him crumbling.

“Can’t,” Kanan repeated, and his shoulders slumped as if this was something he hadn’t even admitted to himself. “Whatever happened to send us here... it’s permanent.”

It took a second for her to find her voice, and an enormous amount of self-control not to shout when she demanded, “Permanent? How long have you known this?”

Kanan looked down at his feet, and instantly she knew what he was going to say. “Immediately.”

Sabine turned around in disbelief, pressing a hand to her forehead as she stepped away from the crates they’d been leaning against. This whole time? He’d known they couldn’t go back this whole time, and it didn’t occur to him to tell her that? 

This changed… everything, in the most devastating way. This changed every plan she’d ever made, every dream she’d let herself fall asleep smiling about. This meant Hera would never know that Kanan had come back. This meant that she’d never actually get to meet her youngest brother. Hera and the others will have gotten to Lothal, and she’d have vanished. They’d never know what had happened to her. 

That was the worst part. If they knew where she was, what had happened, she might be able to accept the permanence of their situation, but there was no way they’d be able to logic it out and figure out that she got sent back in time. From their perspective, she’d have just disappeared. They might spend years looking for her, and they’d never find her. Ezra would get back from Wild Space and find out that she was gone; how devastated would he be? Knowing him, he’d turn around and blame it on himself, say that it had happened because he wasn’t there on Lothal, that if he’d been there to protect the planet instead of her--

She felt like someone had poured ice-cold water down her back as she suddenly realized what that last message he’d given her had meant. “Oh, Force…” She turned around, meeting Kanan’s eyes and fighting to keep her voice steady. “Ezra said he was counting on me, but he didn’t mean to protect Lothal. Kanan, he wanted me to go find him. He’s gonna be waiting for me, and I won’t be there--I can’t be there because I’m stuck here!”

Kanan straightened, pain flashing across his face before he pulled her in for a hug. She stiffened, half-wanting to curl up in his arms and hide from the world, half-wanting to scream and punch him. He was the one who’d made her realize it, after all. So this pain, this awful feeling in her chest because she knew she was hurting her family and couldn’t do anything about it--that was his fault. 

But at the same time, she could feel the way his arms were shaking, like he was keeping himself from crying only through immense willpower. This was hurting him just as much. So the first part of her won out and she buried her face in his shoulder, ignoring the clones behind her, whose eyes she could feel glancing at her with concern.

She didn’t cry, though. She couldn't. Not in front of the clones, not in front of Kanan who was being so strong not to fall apart, despite the fact that this had to be just as hard for him as it was for her. She couldn’t break here, as much as the memory of Zeb’s last transmission, telling her about Jacen, made her want to.

When he let her go, she stepped back, looking at the ground as she quickly wiped her eyes. Despite her best efforts, a few stray tears had escaped. Judging from the way Kanan was sniffling slightly, the same went for him.

A footstep behind her made her whirl around, her hands automatically dropping to her blasters. Bly didn’t comment, either on her instinctive action, or the fact that the two were still wiping away rogue tears. Instead, he just said, “The General asked me to get you two. Briefing’s about to start.”

Sabine nodded, wiping her eyes one last time before grabbing her helmet from the crate she’d set it on earlier. She put it on before following Bly to the command tent, where General Secura was waiting with some of the other commanding officers.

As they stood around the holotable, Kanan moved to stand just behind her elbow, his presence reassuring. But as the general began telling them about their mission--something about the GAR losing contact with an infiltration team, and launching a rescue operation--she stepped away. She couldn’t rely on Kanan for warmth right now, as much as she wanted to. She had to stand on her own.


	10. Though It’s Just Another Name for Being Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm an idiot. What did I do, you may ask? Oh, I just deleted everything I've written after this chapter. So yeah. That's how 2020 is going. I'm trying to see if there's a backup somewhere in my files, but if not... well, we'll be going to biweekly updates as I have to rewrite everything I've written. Because I'm an idiot.   
> Anyway, that aside, here's the chapter. Thank you guys so much for your comments and kudos! It means the world.

Obi-Wan had known when he’d woken up that morning that something was about to happen. He didn’t know whether it was good or bad, or when precisely it was going to happen, but he knew it was coming. He could feel it through the Force, through the very air, like the whole galaxy was holding its breath. It had set his nerves alight with anticipation.

When Ezra had dropped the stone he shouldn’t have been carrying (it was too big, even with the Force he couldn’t possibly keep a hold of it long enough to get it to the cart) Obi-Wan had thought that had been it. This was what the Force had been waiting for. The Zygerrians were going to snap, or Ezra was, and one of the two groups was going to die. But they hadn’t. The Zygerrians had gone further than ever—two of them, leering as they jabbed Ezra’s collar with their spears and electrocuted him—letting the torture go on well past where they usually would have stopped.

To his shame, Obi-Wan had just stood there and watched as the two guards hefted the rock between them, glanced over at him to make sure he was watching, and then threw the rock down on Ezra’s arm.

The scream he’d let out had echoed through the tunnels and the Force alike, leaving Obi-Wan reeling as it expanded in a wave through the Force. Every Force-sensitive in the sector must have felt it as the Zygerrians ground into his arm with the heavy rock, keeping going even after the scream died and Ezra mercifully passed out.

When one of the Zygerrians had left after a whispered conversation and had returned with Rex, then and only then had Obi-Wan let himself relax. It was bad, he could tell from Rex’s reaction alone, but if Rex was at least looking after Ezra, he would be fine. Regardless of the fact that they’d been fighting recently, Rex had a duty to protect others, and he’d proven time and again that he cared about Ezra. They’d be fine.

That didn’t make the wait for the final whistle blow of the day any easier. Rex and Ezra had disappeared hours before, and while Obi-Wan could feel that they were alive, he didn’t know where they were or what condition they were in.He tried not to rush through eating the meager portion he’d been given, making sure to save some for Rex and Ezra, as he was certain they hadn’t been given any food.

But finally,  _ finally, _ they were being herded into the barracks. When Obi-Wan didn’t immediately see them, he clenched his jaw, trying to push down the fear that was threatening to make his stomach rebel. But if they weren’t here, where would they be? He doubted there was an infirmary for the slaves, or that the guards would care enough to let Rex take Ezra there if there was one. As it was, he was surprised they’d brought Rex in to look after him.

Speaking of the clone, he finally spotted him, kneeling behind some broken-down furniture and waving him over, a grim look on his face. Quickly Obi-Wan walked over, trying not to bump into the colonists who were slowly clambering onto the ‘beds.’ He could feel the guards’ eyes on his back, but since they didn’t stop him, he figured they didn’t care if they weren’t on the bunks.

Rex sighed softly in relief as Obi-Wan crouched down next to him. “I’m glad you’re here, General. He’s… it doesn’t look good.”

That was an understatement. Ezra’s arm was discolored where it wasn’t bloody, yellow, purple and black splotches betraying how the limb had been damaged. In all honesty, it didn’t even look like an arm at the moment, more like a piece of meat that just happened to be attached to Ezra’s elbow.

Ezra’s face was pale, from blood loss and lack of sunlight, thin, from lack of food, and covered in sweat, from a fever Obi-Wan suspected had set in a couple days ago. In all honesty, if Obi-Wan couldn’t see his chest rising and falling and feel his presence, however dim, through the Force, he would have mistaken him for a corpse. So yes, ‘not looking good’ was a bit of an understatement.

With a curse that earned him a glare from Rex, he pulled off his tabard and began winding it around Ezra’s arm. Hopefully that would help a bit with the blood loss and keep it from getting infected. At the very least it meant they didn’t have to look at it.

Sitting next to Ezra, Obi-Wan carefully pulled the younger man—still a boy, really—into his lap, letting him use his shoulder as a pillow. Rex sat down beside him, some of the tension draining out of him now that Obi-Wan was here.

“What are we going to do?” The clone asked softly, and Obi-Wan bit his lip.

“Wait. Anakin and Ahsoka will find us. We just have to hold on until they do.” He tried to inject some confidence into his voice, but knew he hadn’t convinced anyone, not even himself.

Sure enough, Rex huffed a sigh. “I don’t know if he can hold on,” he muttered quietly, clenching his fists.

“He has to,” Obi-Wan said softly, tightening his grip a bit.

“Let me rephrase that,” Rex said, meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes, anger burning in his expression. “I don’t know if he wants to hold on.”

_______

Getting Ezra to eat was a chore. He was only half awake, and utterly convinced that someone else needed it more, although Obi-Wan couldn’t figure out who he was trying to save the food for. Rex had already eaten; hell, he’d waited to eat until Ezra was awake just so he could show him that he had eaten. Obi-Wan was tempted to chalk it up solely to the fever, but Rex’s expression and what the clone had had to tell him earlier told him otherwise.

After that, Ezra had passed out again, and Obi-Wan wasn’t about to wake him up. The boy had to be in agony right now. Between his flayed-open back and his arm, both of which were infected if the red lines creeping up his veins from his elbow and the pus leaking from the wounds on his back were anything to go by, it was no wonder he had passed out.

None of the three of them slept well that night. Obi-Wan and Rex had started off taking shifts, but about halfway through the night, Ezra’s breathing went from slow and deep to fast and shallow, his fever suddenly spiking to the point that they could feel the heat rolling off of him in waves.

Rex had been the one on watch when that had happened. He’d woken Obi-Wan up immediately, and the two of them had spent the rest of night holding Ezra down as he tossed and turned. He wasn’t mumbling, or even reacting to the fact that his back started bleeding _ —again— _ as he tossed and turned, just shaking and sweating. Honestly, how he even had any fluids left to sweat was anyone’s guess. Last time he got a drink would have been yesterday—or the day before yesterday, now that it was past midnight, and he’d been sweating from both the fever and the hard work for most of the day.

A few times during the night, Obi-Wan glanced up and caught a few of the Togrutan colonists looking in their direction, expressions of concern and pity making his stomach turn. Even without seeing, they knew as well as he did that Ezra’s chances of getting out of here were getting slimmer by the hour, and they knew that meant Obi-Wan and Rex might have to watch it happen.

None of the colonists knew him—knew any of them, actually, talking between the slaves wasn’t encouraged—but they knew that if he hadn’t been serving as the Zygerrans’ whipping boy, they’d all have been at the other end of the whip more often. So part of the concern was born from gratitude, the other from fear as to who the Zygerrians would target now. Ezra wasn’t going to be in any position to work in the morning, and if the Zygerrians didn’t decide to just… end it when the alarm sounded that morning, he most likely would be gone before they got back at the end of the day.

That was probably actually why the Zygerrians had let Rex take Ezra back to the barracks and why they weren’t separating them. They wanted them to watch him—kark, it was hard to even think the word—watch him die, knowing they were completely unable to help. They wanted that knowledge to break them.

A glance at Rex’s face told him that the tactic might actually work, though not in the way the Zygerrians were hoping. The clone looked about five minutes away from killing someone. If Ezra didn’t make it, Obi-Wan knew Rex was going to kill every single Zygerrian he could find. The guilt in the clone’s eyes was already plain as day, and understandable.The Zygerians had only started targeting Ezra after Rex had covered him, so of course he was going to blame himself.

Obi-Wan’s foot started to fall asleep, so he shifted, bringing Rex’s attention to him. It was probably a few hours before dawn, now, and still, neither of them had gotten much sleep. He’d tried to meditate, but the fear and sense of impending…  _ something _ kept him from fully losing himself in the Force.

“General,” Rex said softly, and Obi-Wan sighed.

“Yes?”

“General Skywalker and Ahsoka… do you know where they are?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “They’re alive, but…” But they still weren’t here. They still hadn’t escaped and launched a rescue.

A muscle in Rex’s jaw twitched, and Obi-Wan reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “They will be here. WE just have to hold on until then.”

Rex heaved a sigh, leveling a tired look at Obi-Wan. “Sir—”

An explosion rumbled through the facility. For a moment, the room was silent, then frantic whispering broke out among the colonists, all of whom were now awake and sending fearful looks at the door.

Rex shot a look at Obi-Wan and made to get up, but Obi-Wan pushed him back down, gesturing at Ezra in a clear,  _ watch him, _ as he stepped out from behind their little barricade. The colonists were starting to climb out of their bunks, huddling in the back of the room. Obi-Wan didn’t stop them; if this was a rescue, he wanted them as far away from the door as possible. If this wasn’t a rescue… well, it’d still probably be best for them to stay back.

As quietly as he could, Obi-Wan took up a position next to the door, tense and ready to spring on the first person to come in. The wait was nerve-wracking. After a few minutes, another explosion rang out and this time, he could hear Zygerrian voices shouting frantically. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but he could tell that there was an edge of fear in their voices.

Heart in his throat, he glanced over at Rex, who gave him a short nod from where he was crouching behind the tables. He tightened his fists and took a deep breath. Whoever was causing the commotion, it wasn’t Anakin. His presence was hard to miss, and Obi-Wan would have known the minute he entered the system, but whoever it was felt familiar, and he knew he should recognize it.

Blasterfire rang through the hallway outside, along with the distinct sound of a lightsaber. Obi-Wan tensed, waiting as the sounds got closer. Suddenly, they stopped, and for a brief instant, there was absolute silence. The colonists behind him even seemed to be holding their breath.

The door hissed open and Obi-Wan sprang forward, throwing the intruder onto their back and leaping on top of them. He had enough time to register familiar blue eyes before he was being thrown back against the wall by a powerful kick. The intruder leapt to their feet and sprang forward, a lightsaber immediately at his throat.

Obi-Wan stared at Ahsoka Tano, whose eyes widened as she realized who she had pinned against the wall. “You might have knocked,” he blurted, the natural sarcasm coming to him as he tried to process what exactly he was seeing.

Because the person in front of him was definitely Ahsoka Tano. The marking on her face, lekku, and montrals, the elegant and agile way she moved, even the reverse grip on her two lightsabers were exactly the same. However, it was very obviously not the Ahsoka Tano he’d last seen on Zygerria. Her lightsabers were white, she was at least a foot taller, and she was very noticeably nearly his own age.

Ahsoka took a steadying breath as she stepped back. “Sorry, Master. I was in a bit of a rush.” Immediately, she glanced over to where Rex was crouching. The clone was staring at her with wide eyes, and Obi-Wan bit back a curse. There was no way he wasn’t going to find out about the time travel now; Ahsoka was too recognizable for him not to figure it out.

It wasn’t Rex that Ahsoka was focused on, though, although she did give him a quick, pained smile as she darted around their little barricade to crouch at Ezra’s side. Obi-Wan crouched beside her as she dug her fingers into his neck then cursed softly after a second. She met Obi-Wan’s gaze, an uncharacteristic steeliness in her eyes. “We need to get him to a medic. I’ve got a ship on the landing pad outside, and I’ve sealed off the corridor leading there. Get the colonists out of here; I’ll cover our six.”

Obi-Wan nodded, and stood. As he quickly directed the colonists out the back of the room—most of them were reluctant to move at all, more than likely afraid of what would happen if the Zygerrians caught them again—he heard Rex say softly, “I’ve got him, Commander,” and grimaced. Rex knew who she was, then. That was going to make things much more interesting.

Governor Roshti thankfully took the lead, timidly guiding the colonists out of the cold room and letting Obi-Wan hang back to watch as Rex scooped Ezra up in his arms, similar to how he’d carried him to the barracks yesterday. He was gentle, but Ezra still let out a pained cry. Rex froze, waiting to see if Ezra was going to wake up. When he didn’t, the clone stood, letting Ezra’s head rest against his shoulder.

Ahsoka followed close behind Rex as he made his way to the door, waiting for the colonists to leave before ducking out after them. Before Obi-Wan could follow them, Ahsoka stopped him.

“How much has Ezra told you and Rex?” She asked softly.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, quickly evaluating Rex’s reaction to the older Ahsoka’s presence, which, now that he thought about it, wasn’t much of a reaction at all. He’d been surprised, to be sure, but not overly shocked. The occasional glances he’d cast over at Obi-Wan were wary, not confused. He’d known.

Heaving a sigh, Obi-Wan shook his head. “That boy needs to get better about sharing things.” Ahsoka raised an eyebrow, prompting him to explain, “He’s told me the basics, but he neglected to mention that he’d told Rex anything.”

Ahsoka copied his sigh, then pulled something off her belt. “Here. Try not to lose it.”

Taking his lightsaber from her, Obi-Wan nodded and ducked out the door, carefully pushing through the crowd hesitating in the corridor. There were a few bodies of guards lying on the ground. Quickly distributing their weapons to the Togrutas in the crowd who weren’t shrinking back, Obi-Wan took the lead as they hurried through the facility.

Scorch marks from blasterfire and lightsaber strikes on the walls marked the path that Ahsoka had cleared. The only guards they saw were lying on the ground, dead, dying, or unconscious. Many of the colonists behind him shrank away from the bodies, but with him leading and Ahsoka shepherding them along from the rear, they pressed on.

Behind a couple of the doors, Obi-Wan heard Zygerrian voices, and one of the doors was being cut open with some sort of laser tool. A quick push of the Force and the sound of a few bodies hitting the walls and floor rang out, making sure they wouldn’t be getting through.

The front door of the facility had a hole cut out of it, and beyond that Obi-Wan could see a cargo ship standing on the landing pad in the middle of the smoking ruins of the towers that had guarded the facility. Obi-Wan had no idea how Ahsoka had taken the towers down—or where she’d gotten his lightsaber, or how she’d locked the facility down, or how the bloody hell she’d even found them—but as he helped a boy climb through the hole in the door, he decided the questions could wait for later.

A shout from across the platform drew his attention away from the colonists, who were all blinking as they emerged into the sunlight for the first time in weeks. A small group of Zygerrians, all looking a little worse for wear, we're hauling themselves to their feet, picking up their weapons and aiming them at the small crowd that had already climbed out.

Drawing his lightsaber, Obi-Wan quickly stepped between the colonists and the guards. Finally, he could actually protect them. As the guards opened fire, Obi-Wan moved, using his lightsaber as a shield. A few of the colonists behind him opened fire, but they weren’t soldiers, and it showed in their aim. Most of their shots sailed clear over the guards’ heads, but at least they made the Zygerrians scramble for cover.

Behind him, the familiar  _ snap-hiss _ of a lightsaber igniting told him that Ahsoka had cleared the facility. An instant later, she was beside him, similarly deflecting the blasterbolts back toward the Zygerrians, who were now using some rubble from one of the collapsed towers as cover. She glanced over at him, and he gave her a quick nod. Immediately, she pulled an Anakin and recklessly leapt forward, landing behind the makeshift barricade with a predatory grace.

Behind him, Obi-Wan heard Rex yelling out orders to the colonists, getting them away from the firefight and toward the cargo ship. Staying out of the fight had to be killing him, metaphorically speaking, especially with two of his Jedi throwing themselves headlong into danger. But Rex had what was arguably the more important job: getting the colonists and Ezra to safety.

Obi-Wan deflected one last blasterbolt into the head of one of the guards. Usually he wouldn’t go for a shot that lethal, but after what they had gone through—after what the Zygerrians had done—he wasn’t pulling any punches. By now they were all rounding on his Grandpadawan, using their staffs to try to fend her off. Not that it mattered. They might as well have been using sticks for all the good it did them. Ahsoka was gracefully darting between them, pulling no blows. as she cut through their weapons, limbs, and bodies with equal ease.

Not seeing the need to help her, Obi-Wan deactivated his ‘saber and started helping the Togrutans toward the ship. The door was open, and Rex was standing at the top of the ramp, ushering the colonists in. He must have set Ezra down somewhere, Obi-Wan thought distractedly as he pulled a young woman who’d tripped to her feet. Handing her over to the clone, Obi-Wan turned to check on Ahsoka, only to see her running toward them, the bodies of the guards sprawled on the ground behind the rubble.

Just before her feet hit the ramp, another explosion sounded from just inside the facility, and about twenty more Zygerrians spilled out, their faces contorting in rage as they spotted the escaping slaves. Ahsoka took half a step toward them, her hands already on her lightsabers, but Obi-Wan grabbed her arm to pull her back to the ship.

“Come on!” He shouted as the ships engines started up. “We need to go!” He wanted to let her at them, wanted to help her take them down, but right now they had women and children on board, they had wounded—they didn’t have time to take down every single Zygerrian.

Ahsoka hesitated for a split second, then nodded. She closed the ramp, then darted through the hold to the bridge as the ship shakily took off. Obi-Wan followed, trying desperately not to trip over the huddled forms of the colonists as the ship swerved. He stepped into the bridge just as Rex stood from the copilot’s seat. Ahsoka was piloting, yanking the steering yolk hard to the right as she came up  _ under _ the facility. Obi-Wan was about to ask what she was doing when she pointed the ship’s nose at one of the facility’s support struts and opened fire.

Sliding into the copilot’s seat, he strapped in—always a wise precaution when Ahsoka or Anakin was piloting—and grabbed the cannon’s controls. Ahsoka shot him a look, telling him she appreciated it before focusing on piloting, weaving around the base of the facility with a practiced ease despite the bulk of the ship. As she did that, Obi-Wan focused on blowing up the supports, taking great pleasure in seeing them crumble beneath the assault.

He didn’t even need to take out the last support. With the other two destroyed, the facility broke away under its own weight, falling into the chasm below. Obi-Wan watched it explode with what was probably an inappropriate mount of satisfaction. At the same time, Ahsoka heaved a sigh of relief, the tension draining out of her body as she plugged in coordinates into the navicomputer and jumped into hyperspace.

Obi-Wan tried not to stare at her, but it was hard not to. She was so… different. Older, more mature, but definitely still his Grandpadawan. It showed in the little things, the way she threw her weight from side to side as she piloted like her inertia would help the ship move faster, the way she had ducked and leapt over the enemies weapons rather than actually blocking their blows... the way her shoulders slumped now that the danger had passed. And definitely in the wry half smile she was now sending his way.

“You’re staring,” she told him bluntly, and Obi-Wan huffed.

“I hardly think you’re in any position to judge.”

It was true. She’d been side-eyeing him and Rex both since she’d come through the door to the barracks, like she was expecting them to disappear the moment she turned away.

Ahsoka’s smile grew even more wry, and she stood, offering her hand to pull him out of his seat. “Well, I haven’t seen you in years, so this... this is all a bit like a dream, really.”

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding, trying to ignore the fact that she was nearly half a foot taller than him. Why was whole lineage taller than him? First Qui-Gon, then Anakin… his only consolation was that his Ahsoka was still shorter than him, at least for now. “You never came to see me on Tatooine?” He asked instead.

Ahsoka looked at him sharply. “Tatooine?” She asked, baffled, and he nodded slowly.

“Yes. That’s where Ezra—” Immediately he cut himself off, his eyes widening in realization. “Ezra.”

Ahsoka stiffened. “Talk later?” She said, and he nodded. She gave him a tense smile and ducked out of the cockpit, Obi-Wan following right behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concerning the red herring at the end of last chapter: yeah, they were *this close* to a reunion, and I decided to be mean. Sorry. Anyway, hope the Ahsoka twist was a pleasant surprise. And again, I'm so sorry about having to change the update schedule. Feel free to yell at me.


	11. Who I Am and Who I Could Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can honestly say I was blown away by your responses to the last chapter. A lot of you had questions, and usually I would answer each individually as long as there was no spoilers, but since a lot of you had the same questions, I'm going to answer them all here and get them out of the way.  
> First: the timeline. Some of you were confused as to why Ahsoka and Sabine weren't together. That's because they don't join up to look for Ezra until after Return of the Jedi, and the event that resulted in the time travel occurred right after A New Hope. That's a time gap of a few years. Ahsoka hadn't even made it off Malachor yet.  
> Second: characters. A lot of you are asking if the rest of the crew of the Ghost are going to show up. All I can safely say is that as of this chapter being posted, all the characters who are going to appear in this part of the series are tagged. If you don't see a character you want to show up, hold your horses, there are going to be a few characters who are going to show up in the third and final part of the series who aren't going to show up in this part.  
> Alright, with that out of the way, on with the chapter!

Ahsoka sighed in relief as she stepped back into the cockpit, glad to be out of the slave’s costume and into her normal clothes. She slid into the copilot’s seat as the ship dropped out of hyperspace. The  _ Resolute  _ had never looked so much like home.

Beside her in the pilot’s seat, Anakin glanced over at her. He was gripping the steering yolk too tightly; if he wasn’t careful, he was going to break it, or at least the right handle. The air of the ship practically crackled with tension, the fear bubbling just beneath both of their skin putting them both on the edge of their seats.

Anakin reached over and activated the comm. “This is General Skywalker to the  _ Resolute,  _ we’re coming up on your port bow. We’d appreciate it if you didn’t shoot us.”

A half-second later, the comm flickered on, and a haggard-looking Rex was staring back at them, his shoulders slumping in relief.  _ “General, Commander. It’s good to see you. We were about to launch a rescue mission.” _

_ Anakin glanced over at Ahsoka, relief an _ d confusion warring for dominance in his expression, before turning back to Rex. “We were about to do the same. We thought you were still on Kadavo, how…?”

Rex’s expression went carefully blank at the name of the planet, and Ahsoka’s stomach dropped. As relieved as she was to see Rex safe and mostly okay, seeing him shut off like that was never a good sign.  _ “We’ll give you a full report once you’re on board and have seen a medic, sir. Dock in the starboard hanger. I’ll ask Cody to bring you to the bridge.” _

He saluted and the comm switched off. Ahsoka looked over at Anakin, who had definitely bent the right handle of the yoke out of shape by now. The fear that had been simmering just below the surface was draining out of her now that she knew they were at least alive, but that didn’t mean things were okay.

“At least they’re okay,” Ahsoka said, trying to reassure Anakin.

Anakin scowled as he brought the ship into the hanger. “He never said they were okay. They’re alive, I’d have known if Obi-Wan… if something had happened, but right now…” Anakin trailed off as the ship landed, then quickly powered down and hurried out of the cargo ship.

The hanger itself was busy, not not overwhelmingly so. A few squads of troopers from the 501st and a couple boys from the 212th were running around, tending to the ships and the refugees. Groups of Togrutas huddled together near the walls, eyeing everything with suspicion, especially the Zygerrian ship she’d commandeered during the escape. Silently, Ahsoka swore she’d see that ship reduced to scrap. Hell, she might even do it herself. It’d be a great way to blow off some steam.

“General!” she heard a voice call, and there was Cody, pushing through the crowd to get to them, his helmet was tucked under his arm.

“Cody,” she said, echoed by Anakin’s own greeting, as the clone threw his usual salute.

“What happened?” Anakin added, his confusion written all over his tone and expression. “When we left Zygerria, the Zygerrians said that Obi-Wan, Rex, and Ezra were on Kadavo, but it was Rex who answered the comm.”

Cody sighed heavily. “To be honest, General, I don’t know much more than you do. They showed up an hour ago. General Kenobi’s been on a call with high command almost since they arrived, and Rex has been coordinating both aid for the refugees and the prep for the rescue mission—high command was about to send one anyway, but since all of you managed to rescue yourselves, I’m going to assume that’s going to be called off.”

Ahsoka nodded along to Cody’s report as they made their way through the hanger, towards the lift to the bridge, then frowned as she realized he’d left someone out. “What about Ezra?” Cody didn’t even bother hiding his wince, and immediately something cold and heavy settled in the pit of Ahsoka’s stomach. “Is he—?”

“He’s alive,” Cody was quick to reassure. “They all made it off alive—well, the team did, a lot of the colonists weren’t as lucky—but he’s in critical condition. Kix has him in the medbay.”

“How bad?” Anakin and Ahsoka asked simultaneously, and she glanced over at him, surprised to see the storm of fear, anger and guilt broiling beneath a stony mask.

Cody grimaced as the stepped into the lift, the lights flashing across his face making him look tired. “Bad. I’ve seen a lot of wounds, General, a lot of them bad enough to kill. What they did to him…” he trailed off, looking sick.

The cold weight in her stomach was writhing now, making her feel sick. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Anakin clench his fist, but whatever anger Cody’s report had sparked, he visibly pushed it aside. “What about Obi-Wan and Rex, are they alright?”

“For a given definition of ‘alright,’ yes,” Cody grumbled, looking decidedly more comfortable now that he was on familiar ground. Griping about Obi-Wan’s lack of decent self-care was one of his favorite pastimes, after all. “They’re both massively underweight and need a solid week of sleep—and a shower—but otherwise they’re alright. Or I assume they are. Rex was out of the medbay fairly quickly, and the general isn’t moving like he’s hurt.”

Anakin quirked an eyebrow. “Has he not been to the medbay?”

The exasperated look Cody shot them—a rare departure from his usually respectful manner—told her that her Grandmaster had, in fact, not been to the medbay yet. She bit back a sigh as the lift came to a halt, letting them out onto the bridge, where Admiral Yularen, Obi-Wan, and Rex were all in conference with General Secura, who was attending via holocall. Distantly, Ahsoka remembered that she had been stationed on Balmorra, and wondered why Obi-Wan had commed her before realizing that she must have been their backup.

Obi-Wan looked up as soon as they walked in, and instantly relief swept across his face. “Oh, thank the Force,” he muttered before suddenly he was right in front of them, pulling Anakin into a hug.

“Uh,” was all Anakin managed before Obi-Wan was pulling away and tugging Ahsoka into a hug. She initially tensed, but the moment his arms were around her she melted, resting her head against his chest. The thudding of his heart under her montral was comforting, grounding her and making the fact that it was over finally start sinking in.

She didn’t want the hug to end, but Obi-Wan was stepping back, keeping a hand on her shoulder as he gave both of them a once-over. “Are you alright?” He asked, as if he wasn’t obviously dead on his feet.

Anakin scoffed in disbelief. “We’re fine, Master, you need to sit down.”

Ahsoka nodded, trying not to wince because Obi-Wan hadn’t moved his hand and it was right on top of a blister. Her shoulders and back had been burned pretty badly by the constant exposure to the sun, although she wasn’t surprised no one had been able to tell. Her skin didn’t turn that funny shade of pink human skin did.

“He’s right, General,” Rex said from behind them. Sometime during their discussion, General Secura had ended the call, and Admiral Yularen had disappeared, leaving the two generals, the two commanders, and Rex standing in front of the holotable. she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t noticed, but she was kind of grateful for the privacy. Part of her hoped that General Secura hadn’t seen the hugs. She really didn’t want another lecture on getting attached, or to have to admit how much she wanted another hug.

Her attention snapped back to the conversation as Obi-Wan tried to wave Rex off. “I’ll sit down later, there are things I need to do.”

“You need,” Ahsoka said with as much authority as she could muster, “to see a medic. Force, Master, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

Rex and Obi-Wan both glanced at her in surprise, a strange look in their eyes, but before Obi-wan could accuse them of ganging up on him, Cody cut in. “I understand that you want to see to the colonists, General, but you need to take care of yourself. You can’t take care of anyone if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Obi-Wan sighed in defeat, and Ahsoka gave Cody a grateful look. she’d just spent nearly three weeks afraid that something would happen to her Grandmaster, and now that they were all here, all safe, she wasn’t about to let him do something stupid and endanger himself more. Cody gave both her and Anakin respectful nods, and she realized her master had given him a similar look behind her back.

“If it makes you feel better, General,” Rex said, “Cody and Admiral Yularen can handle seeing to the colonists. General Skywalker can go get a meal followed by at least eight hours of sleep—” Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but Rex’s tone and expression told him that this was not a suggestion and he snapped it closed again “—and I’ll take you and Ahsoka to the medbay.”

“I’m fine,” she protested half-heartedly. Rex’s flat glare told her he’d seen her reaction to Obi-Wan’s hand on her shoulder and she sighed. At least this would give her the chance to see how Ezra was doing.

Anakin looked at her, worried. “You’re hurt? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Relax, it’s just my shoulders—”Obi-Wan snatched his hand away like he was the one who’d been burned “—and they’re just sunburnt. It’s not that bad.”

“You should have said something,” Anakin said, scowling, and  _ oh, Force, imagine how bad he’ll be when he actually has a kid. It’s going to be this, but ten times worse. _ Ahsoka bit back a small smile as Anakin went on. “We could have put bacta on it in the ship and gotten you pain meds. C’mon, we can get Kix—or Coric—to look at it, you’re supposed to tell me these things—”

Obi-Wan cut him off before he could march Ahsoka off the bridge. “Anakin, you need to rest. Rex will take her to the medbay, she’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Anakin,” Ahsoka interrupted. “Please go sleep. You can’t take care of me if you don’t take care of you.”

Anakin looked back and forth between the four of them and sighed. “Fine.”

Obi-Wan didn’t look convinced. “Right. So I suppose you won’t mind if I escort you to your room to make sure you actually go there instead of, say, the hanger?”

“General, you need to go to the medbay,” Cody reminded him, looking annoyed.

Obi-Wan waved him off. ”I’ll go as soon as I get Anakin to his room.” Cody didn’t look convinced, but Obi-Wan looked over at Rex and they had some sort of silent conversation Ahsoka didn’t understand, but they must have reached some kind of agreement because Rex sighed.

“If you’’re not in the medbay in twenty minutes, I’ll find you and drag you there.” Rex sounded tired, and Ahsoka could sympathize. She was so ready for this to all be over, for things to go back to normal, even though normal was highly subjective.She was tired of feeling so many emotions, going back to just one at a time would be nice.

As Obi-Wan herded Anakin into one lift, Rex guided her into another. As soon as the door slid closed, she leaned against him, resting her forehead against his breastplate. “‘M glad you’re okay, Rex,” she mumbled.

Rex gently and somewhat awkwardly patted her back, clearly cautious of the potential sunburns. “I’m glad you’re okay, too, Ahsoka. We were all worried.”

“How bad was it?” Ahsoka asked carefully, straightening so she could look Rex in the eye, even though he was avoiding looking at her.

“Bad,” he answered reluctantly, “bit of a miracle we got out at all.”

“We’d have come get you,” Ahsoka said, trying to inject some reassurance into her voice. Rex shot her a look and she sighed. “How’s Ezra? Cody wouldn’t tell us anything except that it was bad.”

Rex grimaced. “Not good. He got the worst of it all. His back’s torn up pretty good and his arm… well, when I left the medbay, Kix had been prepping for surgery to reconstruct the bone. And both his arm and back are infected.”

The image Rex was conjuring in her mind left her feeling sick. And here she was thinking she’d had it bad. All the Zygerrians had done to her was leave her hanging in a cage, while Ezra had been tortured.

“That’s not the worst of it, though,” Rex said, and Ahsoka’s stomach plummeted, because how could that not be the worst? “The Zygerrians liked to use the shock collars as punishment. Long bursts, low intensity, for most of us, but… we think they weren’t as careful with Ezra. He’s had an arrhythmia for nearly a full day now, and, uh, he flat-lined right as we got here. Kix got him back pretty quickly, but now he’s got to worry about potential damage to the kid’s heart, and… it’s not good.”

Gripping her beads tight, Ahsoka tried to steady herself as she processed this. The words ‘flat-lined’ and ‘potential damage’ bounced around her head, making her feel dizzy. “Does Kix think he’s gonna make it?” She asked nervously, and Rex’s shoulders slumped slightly.

“He didn’t say.”

Ahsoka grimaced as the doors of the elevator slid open. The hallway leading to the medbay was busy, troops and colonists hurrying about, but they cleared the way for her and Rex. Probably because Rex was marching furiously enough to make anyone smart jump out of the way. She tried not to stare as she walked past, but most of the clones looked grim, and the colonists looked so haunted it was hard not to. One of the Togrutas noticed her staring, though, and scowled, and she quickly looked away.

The medbay itself wasn’t busy, only a few hushed voices echoing through the space. Her eye was immediately drawn to one of the operating rooms—the only one currently being used—but Rex grabbed her arm before she could take off towards it.

“Wait, Commander, you know you can’t go in there,” he said softly, like he was trying not to break the illusion of calm.

With a huff, Ahsoka let him guide her over to oe of the private rooms, not unlike the one the four of them had taken to using for meetings when in the medbay. When they got to the door, though, Rex halted, shifting on his feet nervously, and Ahsoka narrowed her eyes.

“Rex, what’s going on?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Rex sighed heavily. “You know how I said it was a bit of a miracle we got out? what I meant by that was, it’s a miracle the person who got us out is even here.”

Glancing curiously at the door, Ahsoka wasn’t sure if she should be nervous or excited. Rex was nervous, so whatever—or whoever—it was, it was either going to make her day or make her day a whole lot more difficult. Without really thinking about it, she rested her hands on her hips, right above her lightsabers, reassured by their weight.

Noticing her reaction, Rex huffed. “It’s not bad, it’s just—never mind, I’ll let her do the talking.”

Ahsoka had time to think,  _ her? _ before Rex was palming the door open and guiding her into the room, where a tall Togruta was standing. As soon as they walked in, the Togruta turned and Ahsoka’s brain stuttered to a halt. Because that was  _ her, _ somehow looking both gentle and amused by Ahsoka’s very obvious shock.

After a few seconds, her brain came back online. “I have so many questions,” she said, “but first—”

“You hit your next growth spurt in the next couple of months, but it’s not until the one after that that you hit six feet,” her older self said, smiling, and Ahsoka breathed a sigh of relief.

It wasn’t an arbitrary question; she’d decided a couple months after becoming Anakin’s Padawan that if she ever met her older self, the first question she’d ask would be when she got taller than him. The fact that the woman in front of her remembered that—and knew what she was going to ask without her having to actually ask—just confirmed that it was actually her. Plus, you know, it was nice to know.

Rex just sighed heavily and sat down on one of the stools, slumping in exhaustion. Immediately, Ahsoka shot him a worried look, catching her older self doing the same out of the corner of her eye. With a soft huff, Rex waved them off.

“I’m fine, just tired. General Skywalker’s not the only one who needs sleep.”

Her older self nodded in understanding before turning to Ahsoka. “How is he? Anakin, I mean.”

Ahsoka shrugged helplessly. “Oh, you know, pretending he’s fine when he’s actually screaming inside.”

Her older self winced slightly before gently taking her by the arm and guiding her over to the bed, somehow avoiding touching the worst of the burns. Idly, Ahsoka wondered if she remembered where the burns were, or if she was just guessing, but that question was answered when the older Ahsoka pulled out a tube of bacta cream and carefully began spreading its all over the burns on her shoulders and upper arms.

With a moan of relief, Ahsoka relaxed, nearly collapsing into the bed. The cream was cool and soothing, and her older self’s hands were gentle. Of course, her slumping like that didn’t make it easier for her older self to reach the burns, so with a soft laugh, the other Ahsoka made her sit back up.

Ahsoka squinted up at her older self, then glanced over at Rex, projecting ‘what the hell?’ as strong as she could.

Rex shrugged unhelpfully. “She hasn’t told us anything much. Too busy getting us out of there and making sure Ezra made it back here.”

“I don’t have many answers, anyway,” the older Ahsoka said as she closed the tube and put it back in the cabinet. Ahsoka smirked slightly when she saw that she had put it back exactly where she’d found it, rather than just sticking it in there haphazardly like she would have done.

“You still know more than we do,” Rex grumbled, and her older self laughed.

“Oh, Rex, I’ve missed you,” she said as she pulled out another stool and perched on it gracefully. “Tell you what, I’ll answer your questions, but you have to answer mine. We can take turns.”

Rex glanced over to Ahsoka, and she nodded. It was only fair; if their positions were reversed, she’d definitely have questions. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go first: where the kriff have you been?”

The older Ahsoka winced. “Avoiding the GAR where I can. I’m too recognizable, hence why I’ve been hiding out in here. That’s why I didn’t immediately come here: if someone recognized me, the Sith would know almost immediately and—”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka interrupted, with a tired huff, “that’d be bad.”

Her older self nodded. “So, how long has Ezra been here?”

Rex and Ahsoka exchanged a look, and she frowned as she tried to do the math. “Almost five and a half months,” Rex answered, “or at least that’s our estimate. He got captured by Separatists before we me him, and even he’s not quite sure how long they had him.”

“Hm,” the other Ahsoka sat back, stroking her chin in a way that reminded Ahsoka of Obi-Wan. “That makes sense, actually. I’ve been here about that time, too, and if my theory is right…”

“Your theory?” Ahsoka asked when it was obvious she wasn’t going to finish the thought.

The older Ahsoka looked up, startled, like she’d forgotten the two of them were here until Ahsoka had said something. “Well, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Ezra and I were the ones who made the leap back in time, but I’d need to ask him about it and he… can’t exactly answer questions right now,” she finished sadly, glancing worriedly at the door, as if she could summon Kix by sheer force of will.

Rex grimaced, too, and shuffled in his seat like he was uncomfortable sitting still. “If you’ve been back for five months, what’ve you been doing?”

“A lot,” her older self said with a wry smile. “I spent most of the war on the front lines, but I also saw the fallout firsthand, so I am very aware of what I can do to help. Part of the reason Sidious was able to take over so easily was because the people have lost faith in the Jedi, and by extension, in the Republic. With what I know, I’ve been able to keep the Jedi Order’s reputation from falling so low. And,” she added, looking grim now, “I’ve been collecting what I can on Sidious’s movements.”

Ahsoka grimaced. As much as she wanted to know about the Sith who had apparently convinced Anakin to Fall and had killed almost everyone she knew, she also hated hearing about him because the fact that no one in the Order knew that he even existed showed just how ineffective the Order really was, and how outmatched they were. “You’re not planning on facing him alone, are you?”

The other Ahsoka scoffed softly. “I’ve only faced Sidious once, and it was all I could do to get Ezra and I out of there. I might have the element of surprise, but that wouldn’t last long in a fight. No, I’m not going to fight him, or at least, not alone, and definitely not yet. There are things I have to do before I can do that.”

Ahsoka sat back, relieved. Rex let out a heavy breath. “Good. Glad to know you’ve at least got better survival instincts than General Skywalker.”

“Like that’s hard,” Ahsoka muttered under her breath as the older woman laughed.

“Anakin has the survival instincts of a Kowakian monkey-lizard on spice. That’s hardly a fair comparison.”

Rex made a noise of agreement before gesturing at the other Ahsoka. “I believe it’s your turn to ask a question, Ahsok—Commander. General.” He grimaced, and both Ahsokas glanced at each other, the younger wrinkling her nose in disapproval.

“This is going to get old really fast,” she said, only to start as the door slid open and Obi-Wan stepped in. Immediately, she met Rex’s eyes, panicking internally because there was no way Obi-Wan wasn’t going to recognize her older self and _ how the kriff were they supposed to explain this, blast it. _

Rex didn’t even bat an eye. For that matter, neither did Obi-Wan or the older Ahsoka.  _ Of course, _ she realized,  _ he saw her when she broke them out. _ That still left them with a lot of explaining to do.

“Oh, don’t let me distract you,” Obi-Wan said mildly, “I’d love to hear your solution to getting the two of you mixed up when talking about you.”

“Master, I can explain—” Ahsoka started, but Obi-Wan raised a hand, cutting her off, and gave Rex a tired look.

“You didn’t fill her in?” He asked.

Rex grimaced. “Sorry, sir. It must have slipped my mind.”

“Ahsoka,” her older self said kindly, “Ezra told Obi-Wan everything—or, nearly everything—shortly before you left for Zygerria.”

“Oh.” Honestly, she wasn’t sure why she was so surprised. No, wait, yes, she was. Ezra played everything so close to his chest she was surprised he’d intentionally tip anyone off. Sitting back on the bed, she crossed her arms. “Why?”

Obi-Wan shrugged as he leaned against the wall next to the bed. “I overheard a conversation that he couldn’t lie his way out of, and I believe he was getting tired of the secrets.”

Rex met Ahsoka’s eyes and they both grimaced. A burst of anger and hurt flared up in her chest, but she pushed it back. This wasn’t the time for that. Besides, Ezra really needed to be here for that conversation, and they still didn’t know how he was doing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other Ahsoka shift on her seat and frown. “I’ve been meaning to ask about that. Ezra’s always made friends easily, and while he can keep secrets, he’s never been what I would call secretive, so why are you all acting like it’s rare he tells the truth?”

This time, all three of them shared grimaces. Ahsoka, in particular, had no idea how to explain. It was obvious that the Ezra her older self knew and the one she knew were different, though she honestly didn’t know how different or why he’d changed.

Thankfully, Rex answered for her. “The kid hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with important information. Kix had to pry the truth about the chips out of him, and we didn’t even know he was Force-sensitive for the first few months.”

“You didn’t—” the other Ahsoka started, looking alarmed, then shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course. I never should have showed him how to do that.”

“Actually, it’s probably saved his life,” Obi-Wan said. “If the Separatists had realized he was Force-sensitive when they captured him, he would have been delivered to Dooku for interrogation and we never would have met him.”

The older Ahsoka nodded her understanding but still didn’t look up at them. “But why wouldn’t he tell you?” She muttered, and Ahsoka shrugged helplessly.

“I think because he was afraid,” she said timidly, shrinking back slightly when the other three turned to her in confusion. “He told me he was afraid to lose anyone else, right after I got kidnapped. Well, it’s kind of hard to lose someone if you don’t have anyone to lose, so maybe the secrets were his way of keeping us from getting too close?”

Rex nodded and Obi-Wan pursed his lips, and she knew that Ezra was going to be given a lecture on letting fear guide his actions as soon as he was out of the medbay. Her other self, however, had straightened abruptly before Ahsoka had even finished talking, and was looking back and forth between the three of them, an emotion not too different from fear in her eyes.

“‘Lose anyone else’—has he said what happened to his crew?”

“He told us that his master died, the rest were just stuck in the future,” Ahsoka reassured her quickly, realizing why she was worried.

The older Ahsoka nodded. “I don’t know whether or not to be relieved. On the one hand, at least he didn’t have to see them die, too, but on the other…”

“On the other, that means there was the possibility of seeing them again before this happened,” Rex finished, “and now that possibility’s gone.” Scrubbing his face, Rex muttered, “This is a mess.”

Obi-Wan sighed, nodding, then went over and nudged Rex. “Go, Captain. You need to rest.”

Rex quickly shook his head. “I can’t, sir, not until Kix tells us how he’s doing.”

“That could be hours from now, and you’re about ot fall over,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Go. Ahsoka—the older Ahsoka—”

“Ashla,” the older woman cut in. Ahsoka raised an eyebrow, and she smiled softly. “It’s a pseudonym I’ve gone by before. And it’ll be less confusing.”

Obi-Wan nodded in acceptance. “Ashla, then, can take the first shift and comm us if Kix comes out while we’re sleeping.”

Rex made to protest again and Ahsoka shook her head. “Rex. Remember what Cody was saying earlier about not being able to take care of others if you don’t take care of yourself?” With a heavy sigh, Rex nodded, and Ahsoka smiled. “Good. Now go get some sleep, or I’ll comm Cody and tell him you’re not taking care of yourself.”

That seemed to do the trick. Rex pushed himself up to his feet, sending Ahsoka a look that reminded her of Anakin whenever Obi-Wan got on his case. Obi-Wan gently took his elbow helping him as he shuffled over to the door, then he turned to Ahsoka.

“You, too, Ahsoka. I won’t pretend to know when the last time you slept was, but I’m certain you need it.”

Ahsoka pursed her lips. “There’s a bed here.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said patiently, “and there’s also one in your quarters.”

Sighing, Ahsoka cut her eyes over to her older self—to Ashla—then looked back at Obi-Wan, hoping he would take the hint. Thankfully, he did, though he raised an eyebrow. “Fine. But I want you to actually get some sleep. And eat. Ashla, could you make sure she eats?”

Ashla nodded, an amused smile making her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Of course, Master.” Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at the two of them, but left, guiding Rex out, although not before Rex gave Ahsoka a concerned look. She waved him off before the door closed, then turned to Ashla, who was still smiling. “You’d think he doesn’t trust us.”

“I wonder why,” Ahsoka said, matching Ashla’s smile as she scooted back to lean against the bed’s headboard. For a minute, the two sat in silence, listening to the hushed murmur of voices outside, broken up by the occasional door hissing open.

It was weird seeing herself like this, like some sort of out of body experience. Ashla was very clearly her, but she was also very clearly not, and it was hard to reconcile those two ideas. Force, no wonder Ezra always referred to them as if they were separate people. If he didn’t, he’d probably have gone crazy.

Ashla was also watching her carefully, but it felt more like she was evaluating her, while Ahsoka was just trying ot wrap her head around the fact that this was someone who had been through the same experiences as her—up until a certain point—and then had lived further, had seen more.

“Ezra told me that you left the Order,” she said, then realized that that probably wasn’t the best way to bring up the topic.

Ashla, thankfully, didn’t seem to take offense. “You wanted to know why?” Ahsoka nodded, and Ashla sighed. “I guess I lost faith. The Jedi had become puppets to the Senate, had lost their way to the point that they ignored the fact that I had no reason to do something like bombing the Temple, and I didn’t know if I could be part of something that put politics before people.”

“But why didn’t you try to change that? You left instead of working with them, and it would have been easier to change if you were still part of the Order.”

“What could I have done?” Ashla asked, spreading her hands. “I was just a Padawan, and I didn’t know how to go about that. I needed time, to figure that out… and to figure myself out. Without the Jedi, I didn’t know who I was. When I left, I was able to figure that out.”

Ahsoka frowned. “But you basically are a Jedi. You help people, you use the Light side—why wouldn’t that make you a Jedi?”

“I’m too attached.” Ashla answered simply. “Ezra doesn’t call me his aunt for nothing, I care about him—like I care about Rex, and Anakin, and Obi-Wan. I’m attached to the _vode,_ to the rest of Ezra’s family, too, even though they’re not here. And with the Jedi Order’s views on attachment being the way they are, I can’t in good conscience call myself a Jedi.

“but,” Ashla added with a small smile, “I won’t deny that I try to be what the Jedi should be. And maybe, once the war’s over, I’ll go back, tell them everything, and actually try to change things.”

Ahsoka nodded, looking down at her hands as she went over Ashla’s words, Everything she’d said made sense, and a lot of it was even true for Ahsoka herself. She was definitely too attached to Anakin, Obi-Wan and Rex, and the fact that the Senate had turned the Jedi into their slaves had been nagging at her for months, since her last conversation with Barriss. But she couldn’t imagine ever leaving the Order.

“Do you regret it?” Ahsoka asked quietly after a minute, and Ashla took a deep breath, frowning.

“I’m not really sure,” she said slowly. “It was the right decision for me, but for the galaxy, I might have made things worse. I regret leaving Anakin, but at the same time, I don’t regret taking time to figure ot who I wanted to be. If I had to do it over again, though, I think I would stay.”

“So, if it happens again, you think I should stay?”

“It’s not going ot happen again—”

“Say that it does,” Ahsoka interrupted. “Do you think I should make the same decision you did?”

Ashla sighed and shook her head. “I think you should make your own decision, based off of your experiences and your beliefs. What was true for me might not be true for you. Leaving the Order might have been the right thing for me to do, or it might have been a mistake, it just depends on how you look at it. After all, not being on Coruscant might have saved my life.”

Ahsoka tried for a smile, but couldn’t really manage it. “But you weren’t there,” she said quietly. “What if by being there you could have stopped everything?”

Ashla’s smile was sad as she sighed. “We can’t focus on ‘could have done.’ All we know is what we have done and what we can do. I can’t spend my life regretting that one decision and letting that regret shape my life.” Leaning forward, Ashla put her hand on Ahsoka’s ankle, making Ahsoka meet her eyes. “We are more than our mistakes, Ahsoka. And you are definitely more than mine.”


	12. Of What I Believed Would Keep Me Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys... so I'm aware that it's been a few months instead of two weeks, but, as some of you know, I have been dealing with mental health issues and am finally back in a place where I can write! I have the next chapter done, and the one after about half-done, so hopefully now I'll be a little bit more consistent with my update schedule... not like that would be hard. I'm only posting today because I wanted to get this out there as soon as possible.  
> Lastly, I want to say thank you to everyone who left comments on this work, whether just to compliment or to ask how I was doing. It was really touching and a great motivator not only to recover but to get back to writing.  
> With all that out of the way, on with the chapter!

Ahsoka woke up a couple hours after falling asleep to Ashla shaking her. Quickly sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she spotted Kix sitting on the stool Rex had been using earlier and immediately started to ask, “How’s—”

“I’ll answer questions when the others get here, not before,” Kix interrupted, scrubbing his face. He looked awful, though not as bad as Rex and Obi-Wan had looked earlier. Mostly he just looked dead on his feet.

Ashla handed him a cup of caf and he nodded his thanks, surprisingly not staring at her as she sat next to Ahsoka. The room sat suspended in silence for a few minutes before the sound of the medbay door cut through the uneasy quiet, followed by a couple pairs of hurried footsteps. The door to the room slid open, and Obi-Wan, looking wide awake, and Rex, looking half-asleep, hurried in.

Obi-Wan didn’t even wait for the door to close behind them before asking, “How is he?”

Kix sighed and set the cup of caf on the counter, grabbing his datapad. “He’ll live.” The room let out a collective breath, and Kix grimaced. “That’s pretty much all of the good news, though. His fever’s still up, and he’s going to be in bacta for the next few days, minimum. We were right about the damage to his heart, and if he ever gets seriously injured again it will cause problems, but for now we’ve got it under control.”

Ahsoka grimaced. That wasn’t great, but that wasn’t as bad as she’d been afraid it would be. Part of her was worrying about the fact that he said it was under control, not healed, but she pushed that aside. He was alive, and he’d be fine. That was what was important.

Obi-Wan sighed heavily, stroking his beard. “You’re sure he’ll be alright?”

Kix nodded, taking another quick sip before answering. “He’ll heal—at least from the electrocution.”

Immediately, Rex straightened. “What do you mean?”

“His arm. There was no way it was going to heal,” Kix said, curling his lip ever so slightly. “When the Zygerrians _mutilated_ it, they screwed up his elbow. Now, that, I was able to reconstruct, and it was getting blood flow, so it’ll be able to heal. The rest of his arm, not so much. The blood vessels that weren’t severed were pinched to the point that very little blood was circulating. You might have noticed that his arm was discolored?”

Rex and Obi-Wan nodded, her Grandmaster looking slightly green. “I thought it was bruising,” he said hoarsely, and Kix sighed.

“Some of it was. Most of the blood vessels in his arm were burst, but the vast majority of it was a result of necrosis.”

“His arm was dead,” Ashla summed up, her shoulders drooping.

Kix nodded. “The only good thing about his blood vessels being pinched shut was that none of the necrotic cells were able to cause problems in the rest of his body, but there was nothing I could do except amputate.”

Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut. Logically, she knew she should have anticipated this. With the medical technology the Republic had available, it wouldn’t even be that debilitating for Ezra, but still, she wasn’t ready for the nauseating guilt that hit her like a kick to the gut.

“How long until he’ll be healed enough to undergo surgery to prep his arm for a replacement?” Obi-Wan asked, and Ahsoka looked up as Kix sighed and set the cup of caf aside.

“Honestly? Probably a couple of weeks, minimum. He’s going to need time to recover from the literal and metaphorical shock his body has undergone. Then he’s going to need a bit of time after the surgery to heal before we can give him a new arm, and then he’ll need time to readjust to the difference in his balance and reflexes… I’d say a month or two before he’s ready to see action again.”

The room fell silent for a minute, each of them processing that information as best they could. Finally, Ashla broke the silence. “Can we see him?”

Kix looked down at his chrono and nodded. “Yes, sir. He’s in bacta at the moment, and I’ll warn you, it isn’t a pretty sight, but if you want to, you can.”

“No need to call me sir, Kix. I’m not part of the GAR anymore,” Ashla said with a wry smile as she pushed herself off the bed. “Let’s go.”

Kix gave a slight smirk. “Yes, sir,” he replied before hauling himself to his feet and leading them to another private room, this one set up with a bacta tank instead of a bed.

Inside the bacta tank, Ezra was floating, his head tilted back exposing his neck, which had angry red scarring around it. His nearly jaw-length hair was splayed out in a halo around his pale face. Ahsoka had to swallow back bile seeing the rest of his body, though, because he was just so karking thin now, his ribs starkly visible. But really made her want to throw up was the empty space where his left arm should have been.

Beside her, she heard Ashla heave a sigh, and when she glanced over, her older self’s expression was pained—haunted, even. Slowly, Ashla walked forward, pressing a hand against the bacta tank for a long moment before turning back to the others.

“I’ll stay here with him,” she said softly.

Rex frowned. “There’ll be medics and other visitors in and out, and most if not all of them will recognize you. Unless you’ve got some way of disguising yourself, I don’t think you being here during the day cycle is a good idea.”

“Then I’ll stay here during the night, and sleep in one of the rooms down here during the day,” Ashla insisted, determination coming off of her in waves.

“Or,” Ahsoka cut in, “you can take the night shift, and come get me a few hours before the day cycle starts, and stay in my room.”

Rex nodded and turned to Ashla. “The only ones who can override the lock on that door are General Skywalker, Admiral Yularen, and myself, and if Ahsoka tells General Skywalker that she, Kix and myself are rotating watch on Ezra, he won’t have a reason to stop by her room to wake her up.”

“It’s a good plan,” Obi-Wan put in, and whether it was just the fact that her Grandmaster agreed with it, or that it actually was a better plan than hers, Ashla nodded.

“Okay, then. I’ll have the night shift, Ahsoka has the early morning shift—”

“I’ll take the late morning shift,” Kix interrupted, and Rex sighed.

“I guess that leaves me with the afternoon shift.”

“What about Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka asked, and her Grandmaster shook his head.

“I’ll be headed back to the _Negotiator_ soon; giving me a shift would be pointless. I’ll visit when I can, though, and I’m sure Anakin, Echo, Fives, and Charger will do the same.”

Ashla looked kind of confused. “Charger? Didn’t he die on the Citadel mission?”

Rex sighed and kneaded his forehead. “He was probably supposed to, but Ezra saved his life. They’ve been fast friends since.”

“Oh. Does he know as well?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “My guess would be no, but he’s the only one we can ask—” he nodded in the direction of the bacta tank— “and unfortunately, he’s indisposed at the moment. We’ll just have to wait.”

“Yes, you will,” Kix said stubbornly. “First he’s going to have to adjust to the fact that we had to amputate his arm, then he’ll have to adjust to the shock of having another Ahsoka around, then, and only then, will he be ready to answer any sort of questions. Now, if you don’t mind, Rex has an appointment with a surgical droid.”

Ahsoka winced. The idea of her best friend having brain surgery—even to get rid of a chip that would make him try to kill her—made her uneasy. Rex straightened, casting her a look that seemed reassuring, but she could feel his own unease, combining with her own to make her hands fall to her lightsaber.

Obi-Wan held up a hand as if asking them to slow down, a twinge of confusion barely detectable in his Force signature. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, why does Rex need surgery?”

The other four of them exchanged looks and Kix grabbed Rex’s arm, guiding him out of the room. Crossing her arms in an effort to hide her discomfort, Ahsoka looked over at Ashla, who sighed heavily. “I can handle this, Ahsoka. You should go get some food and a shower.”

Remembering that she still had nearly three weeks’ worth of grime on her, Ahsoka nodded and gave Obi-Wan a sympathetic look before leaving. Immediately heading for her room, she popped into the sonic for a few minutes before deeming herself clean. After throwing on a clean set of her own clothes—the slave’s outfit was being burned, and no one could tell her otherwise—she headed to the turbolift that would take her down to the mess hall.

Cody looked up as the door to the lift opened, and she sent him a small smile. “Commander,” he greeted, tucking the datapad he’d been looking at into a pouch on his belt.

“Hey, Cody,” she replied tiredly. The earlier nap hadn’t done much, but she knew she was too wired to try to sleep right now. She’d need to work it off somehow before she could consider turning in.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Ahsoka glanced at him, trying to convey how much she hated it when the boys thought they had to ask that. “Always.”

“You look like _osik,_ sir.”

Barking a laugh, Ahsoka leaned back against the wall, trying to urge her muscles to relax. “I feel like _osik._ I just left the medbay.”

Cody nodded. “How’s Ezra?”

“Out of surgery,” Ahsoka answered. “Kix had to amputate his arm.”

With a grim expression, Cody nodded again. “I expected as much.” After a brief pause, he asked, “How’s Rex holding up?”

She heaved a sigh, using the time it took to blow out her breath to form an answer. “Not great. He’s exhausted, and torn. Very torn. He and Ezra never really made up after the Citadel, and now Ezra’s hurt…”

“And Rex blames himself,” Cody finished. Rubbing his face, he muttered. “I should have gone with you.”

“Hey. You were just saying that Rex shouldn’t blame himself. You can’t turn around and start blaming yourself. If we’d brought another clone, our cover would have been blown sooner. There’s no way we could have hidden the fact that you two are nearly identical.”

“We could have passed ourselves off as twins.”

“Maybe. But the fact of the matter is that you weren’t there, and there’s nothing we can do to change that now. All we can do is learn from it.” As she was talking, the doors of the lift slid open. Cody was apparently headed to the mess as well, which she was glad for. She wanted to finish this discussion. She couldn’t have Cody blaming the outcome on something that was in no way at fault, especially if that something was himself.

“You sound like General Kenobi.”

“Hm, I wonder why. It’s not like he’s been helping train me for the last three years,” She said sarcastically.

Cody gave a quick laugh. “Now you sound like General Skywalker.”

“Again with the whole ‘training me for three years’ thing,” she replied teasingly as they entered the mess proper. Grabbing a tray and going directly for the proteins, she added, “Besides, have you noticed how sometimes you sound like Master Obi-Wan? It’s kind of hilarious.”

Scoffing indignantly, Cody led them over to a table. “I do not sound like General Kenobi.”

Ahsoka laughed. “You literally just did!”

“I do not!” Cody retorted, but a small smile was playing at the corners of his mouth.

Ahsoka didn’t bother answering that, too busy trying not to fall off her chair from laughing. She felt oddly giddy, and she had to set down her fork before she dropped it. Cody was giving her an amused look, and she could feel the general happiness and curiosity of the rest of the boys in the mess. They were probably wondering why she was laughing.

Sucking in a deep breath, Ahsoka realized that she had tears streaming down her face, and she wasn’t laughing anymore. Across from her, Cody stood up, and a pang of hurt lanced through her chest because if he was disgusted with her breakdown, that’d be another person she’d let down. Just like Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ezra and Rex. So far, Ashla didn’t seem disappointed with her, but it was only a matter of time before she kriffed something up and got Ashla’s version of Obi-Wan’s disappointed expression.

Her thoughts were interrupted when an arm wrapped around her shoulders and she startled, a sob hiccuping in her chest. Cody was right beside her now—hadn’t he been leaving?—and he was saying something, but she didn’t bother trying to figure out what it was. Before she could even think about what she was doing, she had buried her face in his chest, ignoring the discomfort of the armor. The feeling of being safe, even just temporarily, was worth the feeling of the armor digging into her face.

Cody’s other arm was now around her back, and he was guiding her up out of her seat and into the hall beyond the mess. He didn’t stop there, but she wasn’t sure where he was taking her, and she found that she didn’t care. She just wanted Anakin to tell her everything was going to be alright, or Obi-Wan to reassure her that she was going to be okay. Or Rex. She just wanted Rex to hold her and listen to her. He was so good at that.

But he was having his chip removed. Obi-Wan was with Ezra and Ahsoka, and Anakin was sleeping. She had no one she could go to for comfort.

The floor beneath them started moving and Ahsoka absently realized they were back in the lift, heading back up. Her arms were caught between her body and Cody’s, and she carefully moved them so that she could wrap her arms around him. She wanted to take what comfort he could give her before he dropped her off and left.

The floor stopped moving and Cody gently guided her out, one arm still around her shoulders as he led her down a familiar hall. She barely managed to keep pace, stumbling slightly as he pulled to a stop outside a door and palmed it open.

They were in her room. She’d mostly stopped crying now, just hiccuping now and again as she trembled. Her nose was stuffed up, making it hard to breathe. Cody seemed to notice this and handed her the box of tissues she kept on the bedside table as he lowered her onto the bed.

Immediately she curled up, shivering. A blanket was carefully tucked around her and she sniffled, touched by how out of his way Cody was going to make her feel okay—or at the very least, better.

“It’s going to be okay, _vod’ika_. I promise, you’ll be okay,” she heard him say softly even as she drifted off to sleep.

_________ 

Cody smiled softly as Ahsoka’s breathing deepened. Her breakdown had startled him, but it hadn’t surprised him. Honestly, if everyone who’d been captured on the Zygerria mission didn’t have a breakdown at some point, he’d very much be surprised. Some of them might put it off for longer—General Skywalker and Ezra were the most likely to do so—or they might have it in private—like General Kenobi or Rex—but it would happen eventually. They needed to. Bottling it up did no one any good. Afterward, though, they could finally start healing.

_________ 

It was one evening a couple days after their escape when Ahsoka had an idea that meant Ashla would have to hide a little bit less, at least for the next couple of days while there were still Togrutan colonists on board for her to blend in with.

“Here,” Ahsoka said as she shoved her cargo into her older self’s arms. They were in her room, waiting for the next couple of hours to pass before Ashla’s overnight shift started.

Ashla looked down at the bottles and palettes, then back up at Ahsoka. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, please. You know better than me that I’m never going to actually use it,” Ahsoka said as she pulled over the stool that normally sat in front of her desk.

Ashla huffed a laugh at that and nodded. “Never had a mission where it would have been helpful, and I didn’t grab it when I left the Order, so I didn’t have it when I could have used it most. It was probably destroyed,” she added thoughtfully, and Ahsoka paused for a minute, pondering the likelihood of the makeup’s survival before shaking that train of thought out of her head.

“Well, it’s intact now, and assuming your skin tone hasn’t changed that much in twenty years, it should work well to disguise you so you can wander a bit more freely,” she said cheerfully, grabbing one of the jars that she vaguely recognized. “I’m pretty sure this is the foundation. Padme said to put that on first…”

As she struggled to twist off the jar’s cap, Ashla chuckled and pulled out another jar from the pile. “Ahsoka, I think this is what you’re looking for.”

Ahsoka glanced over and scowled as Ashla laughed harder and tossed the jar Ahsoka’s way. Using the Force a little bit, she caught it and tossed the other jar at Ashla’s lap. The lid of this jar opened much quicker, and Ahsoka was about to grab a random brush when Ashla stuck a different one in her face.

“Here, use this one for that,” she said, and Ahsoka scowled.

“What difference does it make? That one’s a brush, this one’s a brush, they’ll both get the stuff on your face. Why does it matter?” Ashla let out a peel of laughter and Ahsoka crossed her arms. “Yes, I’m so funny I make myself laugh,” she grumbled sarcastically.

After a minute or so, Ashla straightened and visibly forced herself to stop laughing, although she still had a wide grin on her face. “Sorry, I was just imagining Padme’s reaction to hearing you say that. Once this is all over I’m so telling her about that and taking a holo of her expression.”

Ahsoka chuckled slightly, relaxing now that she knew Ashla hadn’t been laughing at her, per se. “How do you know that that’s the brush you’re supposed to use, though?”

“Experience,” Ashla answered simply, plucking both brush and jar out of Ahsoka’s hands. “I did say I needed makeup after the Order fell. Of course I didn’t have this stuff,” she indicated the collection spread on the bed next to her, “but I made do.”

Now that, Ahsoka understood. Disguising oneself was a very logical course of action for someone on the run from the authorities to take, and the expensive Nubian makeup was hard enough to get in the colors they needed that would have been impossible for Ashla to acquire them while on the run from said authorities.

“What do you think?” Ashla asked, and Ahsoka grinned.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a completely different person,” she said, a laugh bubbling up in her chest as Ashla smiled back.

“Let’s hope it fools everybody else,” she said as she started putting the jars and palettes away in the cupboard.

Ahsoka watched her do it, wondering when exactly she’d turned into a neat freak. “You know, you could just throw them in there.”

“You know that makes it harder to find things when you need them,” Ashla shot back, looking over her shoulder with a grin.

“You know we have these things called eyes.”

“You know this is more aesthetically pleasing.”

“You know it’s all going to get tossed around next time we’re in a battle.”

That made Ashla pause before conceding the point. “Fair enough. But it’s all neat now, so it doesn’t matter.”

With a soft chuckle, Ahsoka waved Ashla out of the door. “Go on. I’ll see you at o’five hundred hours.”

_______ 

Ashla sighed as she stepped out of Ahsoka’s room. It was hard not to think of it as hers, considering it had been for nearly three years, and the fact that she was staying in it now wasn’t helping. Thankfully the others all seemed as weirded out by all this as she was. Walking over to the elevator, she sighed. She wanted Ezra to hurry up and wake up, even though she knew he was still in bacta. She was hoping, though, that when he woke up, he’d be able to help her figure out some of the hows and whys of their current situation.

Pressing the call button, she rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the headache that keeping her shields up and her signature muffled was generating, but she couldn’t let her control slip. If Anakin found out who she was, he’d freak.

The elevator doors slid open and she stepped into it, leaning back against the wall and picking at her nails in an effort to appear casual. The colonists, all on their way back to Kiros, weren’t usually up here, but until they were dropped off in a day or two, Ashla could use them as a decent disguise. Of course, that just left the question of how she was going to hide after they left, because she wasn’t leaving until Ezra was awake.

Right as the elevator doors started to slide closed, a gloved hand forced itself into the gap between the doors and pushed them open again. Ashla felt her eyes widen and the blood drain from her face as the last person she wanted to run across stepped into the elevator with her, giving her a sheepish grin as if apologizing for the delay.

“Hey,” Anakin said, and Ashla tried so hard to hide her flinch, because the last time she’d heard that voice—No. No, she couldn’t let her thoughts spiral in that direction, not while he was _right kriffing there._

“Hello,” she said instead, dropping her voice and adopting a lilting accent so he wouldn’t recognize her.

They sat there in awkward silence for a moment before Ashla asked, “Are you going to the medbay, too?”

Anakin cursed in Huttese. “No, I need to get to the hanger. Thanks,” he added as she hit the button cleverly labeled ‘hanger.’ He nodded at the button she’d pressed. “Visiting someone?”

Deciding not to lie, she nodded. “Yes. My nephew. He was trapped in the mines at Kadavo.”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said, grimacing. “One of ours is still down there, too.”

“I know, I’ve seen him.” Ashla decided it would be best not to mention that he and her nephew were one and the same. “The troops keep a close eye on him. As does your Padawan,” she added, prompting him to answer the unspoken question.

Anakin was amazingly easy to get talking about Ahsoka and the boys. “Yeah, I’m not surprised about Rex and the rest of the boys; they all took a shine to him when he kicked the _shebs_ of two ARC troopers at the same time—” Ashla bit her lip to keep from smiling at that; she had no doubt Fives had demanded a rematch— “and loyalty means everything to them, but I am kinda surprised by Ahsoka.”

“Oh?” Ashla questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Anakin gave her a bemused look as he crossed his arms and she realized she was unconsciously mimicking Obi-Wan. “Yeah, she and Ezra had been arguing before all this started, and now I’m worried that she’ll blame herself for what happened to him.”

Ashla nodded, understanding where this worry was coming from. She, herself, had often blamed herself when someone she was responsible for was hurt or killed on a mission, and if they’d been bickering beforehand, that was always worse. She’d bickered with Echo about something stupid right before the Citadel mission, and while she knew now that he’d survived that, she’d never seen him again.

“May I offer a suggestion?” She asked, and when Anakin nodded, she said, “Talk to her. Let her vent to you, listen to her, then correct what she got wrong. And tell her that Ezra won’t blame her, and that if he does, she shouldn’t count him as a friend.”

That last part was hard to say, even though she knew for a fact that Ezra would never blame Ahsoka for this. He’d blame himself instead, but she wasn’t supposed to know that.

Anakin nodded again, flashing a quick smile her way. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” she replied, returning the smile.

Just then, the elevator doors slid open onto the medbay level, and she bit back a sigh of relief. Being in this close proximity to a version of her Master who hadn’t Fallen was torture, because she wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him everything, including how he was the big brother she never had and that she loved him. She’d never told her Anakin that.

But instead of doing that, she offered him a little wave and stepped out of the elevator to go relieve Rex.

Rex was sitting in a chair that had been dragged into the room, rather than the stool the room was equipped with, when she walked in. He didn’t look up at her when the door closed, but rather, kept his eyes fixed on Ezra, still floating unconscious in the bacta tank.

“You’re early,” was his only greeting, and she smiled, pulling over the stool and sitting in it.

“I am. Ahsoka lent me some makeup, so it was safer to travel through the ship.”

Rex hummed in reply and they sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. She used that time to evaluate Ezra, who wasn’t as pale. His arm looked better, too, although the sight of it still made Ashla’s stomach churn with guilt and horror, but the bandages around the stump were gone, as were the angry red lines that had spoken of infection. His ribs were also no longer standing out in such sharp relief, and although she couldn’t see it at the moment, Kix

assured her yesterday that the wounds on his back were nearly completely closed.

“I hate this,” Rex muttered, breaking the silence,and Ashla turned to him, frowning.

“Hate what?”

Rex sighed and sat back, still keeping his eyes on the tank. “I’m still mad at the kid. He lied to us, made a decision that compromised our safety and the safety of those around us, but I also just feel so damn guilty about everything on Kadavo, because I made a similar decision, and now he’s hurt and permanently scarred, but I’m still mad at him, which I feel guilty about, and I feel like I don’t know which way is up right now and I hate that feeling.”

Finally, he looked up at her, not looking at all surprised by her altered appearance. Instead, he looked torn, and Ashla quickly put her hand on his arm. “Rex… that doesn’t make you a bad person. It just makes you human.”

“Huh. Says the Togruta.” Rex turned back to the tank.

“It’s not my fault humans are one of the most predominant species in the galaxy. Besides, you know that’s not my point.” When Rex still didn’t say anything, she sighed. “C’mon, Rexster, talk to me.”

He huffed. “How long’s it been since you broke out that nickname?”

“A while.”

Sighing, he glanced back over at her. “I just… I’m so confused about what to feel right now.”

“And that’s okay. We’ve got time for you to figure it out. Time until he wakes up—” she nodded in Ezra’s direction— “and time until the galaxy has spiraled far enough out of anyone’s control except Sidious’s that he enacts Operation Knightfall.”

Rex nodded absentmindedly, running a hand over the skillfully shaved portion of his head. Kix had figured out how to disguise the area that had to be shaved for the incision so that no one—namely Anakin—would figure out that all the clones were suddenly getting the same haircut. “At least we know the 501st is safe to be around, and soon the 212th and all the others will be, too,” he said with a heavy sigh, looking back over at Ezra. “At least that means there’s no damage done by his not telling us.”

“Which reminds me,” Ashla said, turning her gaze to the tank as well, “I need to find out who spread the word about the chips.”

“It wasn’t you?” Rex asked, raising an eyebrow, and she shook her head.

“And if Ezra didn’t either, and it wasn’t Fives this time…” Ashla sighed. As much as she wanted to dig into that mystery, this wasn’t the time. “Unfortunately, that’s going to have to go on the back-burner. Sidious’s movements and the Order’s reputation come first.”

Rex nodded in understanding. “I’ll see if I can’t find out on my end.”

She sent him a quick smile. “You also need to talk to Ezra about what’s going on up here,” she added, tapping her forehead. “Actually, all of you need to sit down and talk some things out. I’ll need to, as well.”

“We’ll let you and General Kenobi go first, seeing as you two need to leave most urgently,” Rex said with a slightly cheeky smile.

“Pretty sure Obi-Wan will be leaving before Ezra wakes up. He’ll have to attend via holocall or wait until Ezra gets back to the _Negotiator_ ”

_______ 

As much as Obi-Wan wanted to stay and be with Ezra when he woke up, that simply wasn’t feasible. They were meeting the _Negotiator_ above Kiros, where they would be arriving in less than twenty-four standard hours. The 212th was needed more on the battlefield than he was on the _Resolute_ , so he had to once again push aside what he wanted for what the galaxy needed. Besides, Once he got back to the _Negotiator_ he could personally oversee the removal of the chips from his men.

Internally he seethed, wanting to curse himself for not pursuing the subject of who ordered the clone army when he’d had the chance. This ‘Tyranus’ had to be a disciple of Sidious, or else it was another name for Sidious himself. Most likely, though, it was Dooku. It seemed a suitably Sith-like name for someone claiming to be the Sith’s apprentice.

In the meantime, though, all he could do was clean up the mess that had been made.

“Sir?” Cody’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and he turned from the viewport of the _Resolute’s_ bridge.

“Yes, Cody?”

Cody was giving him an odd look, and Obi-Wan realized absentmindedly that he’d been brooding like he often accused Anakin of doing. “I have the squad you asked for assembled, sir.”

“Excellent. None of them mind the special assignment?” Obi-Wan asked as he headed for the door.

Following him, Cody shook his head. “No, sir. In fact, they all volunteered.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Really? I can think of at least one trooper off the top off my head, but you managed to get three other volunteers as well?”

“Four, actually. Your pilot volunteered as well, although he’ll only be attached unofficially.”

Stepping into the elevator—which Rex had just stepped out of, giving Obi-Wan a respectful nod as he passed—Obi-Wan shook his head, stroking his beard to hide an amused smile. “He does have an effect on people, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, sir, he does,” Cody answered dutifully.

Obi-Wan glanced over at him. His expression was completely earnest, so obviously the young man in question had gotten to his commander as well. “I’ve noticed you don’t mind it when the rest of the men call him ‘Commander.’”

Cody shrugged. “Well, he may not be your Padawan officially—or even unofficially since he’s so stubborn about actually going to training—but he is a Jedi, sir. We have to treat him as such. Besides,” he added almost reluctantly, “he’s one of the good ones, you know? He remembers our names and tries to protect us even though we were meant to protect you.”

Obi-Wan had to swallow a couple of times to keep the contents of his stomach down at Cody’s declaration. He hadn’t told Cody yet about what he was really meant to do, but the thought of Cody having to carry out that order—of any of the men having to carry out that order—made him feel sick. So rather than let the mixture of anger, horror, and fear that was churning his stomach control his next words, he took a deep breath, _shoved_ the emotions into the Force, and offered Cody a half-hearted smile.

“So long as they’re aware that they will be staying with the 501st until Ezra’s recovered, I’ll approve your volunteers’ reassignment.”

Cody nodded as the elevator doors slid open, depositing them on the same level as the barracks the men from the 212th were bunking in. There were only eighteen of them staying in the barracks, so some of the bunks actually belonged to men from the 501st, but Cody was able to lead Obi-Wan to a specific set of bunks, where Charger, a rookie, Scorch, Lockjaw, and the pilot, Adenn, were all doing various activities. The rookie and Lockjaw were cleaning their blasters while Charger was regaling the wide-eyed rookie with some story or another. Scorch had somehow convinced Adenn to engage in an arm-wrestling match, which seemed to be at a stalemate.

Cody coughed loudly, and Charger snapped to attention. “Commander on deck!” He barked, and immediately the other four surged to their feet. The rookie’s blaster rifle clattered to the floor as he shot up, though, and without a helmet there was no mistaking the wince the resulting noise caused.

Obi-Wan bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the look on the poor rookie’s face. Turning to Charger, he managed to keep the amusement mostly out of his voice as he said, “Charger. How did I know you’d be the first to volunteer?”

“Second, actually, sir,” Charger said before nodding in the rookie’s direction. “3108 over there beat me to it.”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan was actually rather surprised by that. He would have assumed Charger had stepped forward before Cody had even finished rattling off the announcement. Glancing at the others, he huffed. “At ease, men, I suspect you’ll be seeing a lot of me after the next month or two.” Immediately the five of them relaxed, sitting back down after glancing at Cody to make sure that was alright.

The rookie timidly raised his hand. “Um, sir, you said the next month or two. Is-is the commander really hurt that badly?”

Obi-Wan sighed and sat down as well, earning him some surprised looks. “He lost his non-dominant hand due to injuries sustained during the mission. Kix suspects it could take as long as two months for him to fully recover, and until then he will be staying here, where the medic who is most familiar with both his injury and prostheses in general is.”

The five of them nodded. That was the explanation they’d offered to Anakin, who’d accepted it gladly. Apparently he’d either missed having Ezra around or wanted more time to apologize, and while that was one of the reasons they’d decided to keep him here, the main reason was that there were more people in the know on the _Resolute_ versus on the _Negotiator_ . That way, Ezra would have more people he could talk to when he needed to, as well as the fact that it’d be easier for Ashla to remain hidden on the _Resolute_ than to smuggle her over to the _Negotiator_.

“Right, well,” Cody said, straightening. “Officially speaking, this unit includes Lieutenant Jarrus, but in all honesty, its real purpose is to watch the _al’verd’ika’s_ back.”

Obi-Wan heard Charger mutter something under his breath, and turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “What was that, Charger?”

“Oh, nothing, sir,” Charger said quickly. “It’s just that if we’re supposed to protect that boy, we need to wrap him in plastiwrap and lock him in a padded room. He could find danger at a child’s birthday party.”

Behind him, Obi-Wan felt Cody stifling a laugh, not wanting to appear inappropriate. Scorch had no such reservations, though, and let out a loud guffaw. Adenn and Obi-Wan both huffed a laugh, as well, because honestly, it was true. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wished the Skywalker trait of being a danger magnet wasn’t genetically passed.

After taking a moment to sober up, Obi-Wan stood. “You’re still part of Ghost Company, but you’re to report directly to Cody, or myself if I’m available. If Ezra decides to do something stupid, don’t try to stop him, just go along with him and let me or Cody, or for the next couple of months, Anakin, Rex, or Ahsoka, know what he’s doing.”

The five of them stood and saluted instead of nodding, but Obi-Wan knew they understood. Knowing this squad of men was going to be watching Ezra’s back made him feel somewhat better, but he still wished he could be here for Ezra—and for Anakin. Recovering from his ordeal on Zyggeria would not be easy for his former Padawan.

_______ 

All too soon, the _Resolute_ was dropping out of hyperspace above Kiros. The rest of Anakin’s fleet, as well as the 212th’s fleet, was waiting in orbit.

At least, Obi-Wan assumed they were. From inside the hanger, he couldn’t actually see if they were there. He could have reached out into the Force to make sure, but he didn’t feel the need. He trusted his and Anakin’s men to be where they were supposed to be.

Anakin was standing at his right shoulder, watching with him as the remaining colonists filed into the last shuttle. The men of the 212th had been repairing the damage done to the colony itself, but it went unspoken that it would take a while for the scars of this ordeal to fade.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye for now,” Anakin said as the shuttle’s ramp retracted.

Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly. “Anakin… I know this mission was hard for you. If you ever need to talk about it…”

Anakin looked minorly surprised. “You want me to talk about my feelings?”

“Talking about them is better than ignoring them. Anakin—” Force, how was he supposed to say this? The younger man clearly had no idea how much Obi-Wan cared, how much he wanted to be the person Anakin turned to when he was upset. But putting that feeling into words was too hard, so instead, Obi-Wan pulled him into a tight hug, careful not to bruise his ribs.

Anakin initially stiffened, but after a beat, he relaxed, practically nuzzling the juncture of Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder. Sweet Force, was he really this hungry for physical affection? Obi-Wan wondered, then nearly smacked himself. Of course he was. The only person who gave it to him with any sort of regularity was Padme, and unfortunately, they were able to see each other less and less as the war dragged on.

Running his hand through Anakin’s curls, Obi-Wan sighed. “You can talk to me, Anakin. I swear. I will always listen when you need me to.”

Anakin sniffled slightly before replying, “Does that include when I think your plan isn’t gonna work?”

Obi-Wan laughed and let go. “I’ll see you soon, I hope.”

Anakin nodded and stepped away, so he could wipe his eyes without everyone watching him. Obi-Wan turned to give him a measure of privacy and saw Ahsoka and Rex headed his way. Smiling Obi-Wan walked towards them, waiting until they were right in front of him to say, “Well, I’ve already said goodbye to Ashla and Kix, so I guess that just leaves the two of you.”

“Yeah. Oh, Ashla wanted me to give you this,” Ahsoka said, handing him a datapad. “She said it would help.”

“Oh. Thank her for me, would you?”

“Of course, sir.” Rex said. He had his helmet tucked under his arm and was standing at Ahsoka’s shoulder. “We’ll keep you apprised of Ezra’s condition.”

Obi-Wan nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Rex. I’m glad you’re on board with everything.”

Rex grimaced slightly. “I’m not sure I am, but that’s a discussion I’ll need to have with Ezra.”

“Fair,” Obi-Wan said before looking down at his Grandpadawan. “Don’t be afraid to talk to myself or Anakin if you need to. And do take care of yourself, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka scrunched her nose. “Which self exactly do you want me to take care of?”

As Rex chuckled, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I think the escape from Kadavo proves that Ashla doesn’t need anyone watching her back.”

Behind them, a couple of LAAT/Is landed in the hanger. “I believe that’s your ride, General,” Rex said, nodding in the direction of the transports.

Obi-Wan nodded and gave Rex a salute and Ahsoka a hug, both of which were returned. With that, he turned to the LAAT/Is that would take him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be up on the 6th. I'll be traveling that weekend, so I won't be able to post it on Friday or Saturday, so you'll be getting another Thursday update!


	13. Our Mistakes, They Were Bound to Be Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's posing on time! Next update will be going back to Saturdays, though, so it'll be on the 22nd of August. Thank you all for your lovely comments last chapter, and with that, I'll shut up and let you read.

It was two days after Obi-Wan left when Ahsoka got the comm she’d been waiting for.

 _“He’s waking up.”_ Kix sounded relieved. Ezra’d been out of bacta over twenty-four hours and hadn’t stirred. They had all been starting to worry that something was wrong.

Even though they were in the middle of a duel, Anakin disengaged his lightsaber and gestured to the door. “Go on, Snips. I know you want to be there when he wakes up.”

Ahsoka nodded, sending him a smile and a wave of gratitude over their bond. Anakin just sighed and waved her off. The gesture was unnecessary, though, as Ahsoka was already halfway out the door.

By the time she got to the medbay, the other three were already there, Ashla sitting beside him on the stool sans makeup. There was no point in it since there were no Togrutas onboard for her to blend in with. Instead she basically had to sneak and mind trick her way into the medbay every night.

Rex and Kix were standing at the foot of the bed. Kix was monitoring something on a datapad while Rex watched Ezra with an intensity that startled her. He glanced up at her briefly when she walked in, but quickly returned his gaze to the figure on the bed.

Ezra looked much better, if only because he was twitching slightly in his sleep. The last several times she’d seen him, he’d been still as a corpse, which was unnerving as he had always been fidgeting before. Now that he was starting to move again, she felt something akin to hope unfurl in her chest, and for the first time, she knew he was actually going to be okay.

Grabbing the other stool—the room had somehow acquired a second one in the week Ezra’d been there—Ahsoka sat down next to Ashla. “How long’s he been like this?”

Kix shrugged, keeping his eyes on the ‘pad. “About twenty, thirty minutes. He could wake up any time now, or it could be a couple more hours. I’ve already commed General Kenobi to let him know.”

Ahsoka nodded and settled in to wait.

It was nearly an hour later when a groan split the silence and all of them immediately tensed, leaning forward. Ashla went so far as to grab his hand, squeezing it lightly as if that alone would wake him.

It didn’t seem to hurt, at least. Ezra’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned again, blinking as he visibly struggled to focus.

“Hey, kid,” Rex said, sounding relieved. “Gave us quite the scare, there.”

“Rex?” Ezra asked hoarsely, and immediately Ashla used the Force to summon a glass of water to her from the small table in the corner and offered it to Ezra, who drank greedily before sitting back with a relieved sigh. He squinted around the room and frowned. “Rex, I think I’m seeing double,” he mumbled, and Ahsoka nearly choked holding back the laugh that threatened to spill out of her mouth.

“What makes you think that?” Kix asked drily while she fought to get her mirth under control.

“There’s two of you and two ‘Sokas,” Ezra said, his words slurring together enough to make Ahsoka wonder how much of his confusion was due to the week of unconsciousness and how much was due to the medication being feed to him through the IV in his wrist.

Kix scoffed. “I am _not_ Rex, Lieutenant.”

Ezra blinked hard, looking back and forth between the two clones for a few minutes, then realization lit his eyes. “Kix?” As Kix nodded, Ezra looked over to where Ahsoka and Ashla were sitting, waiting for him to make the connection. It took him a minute of looking back and forth between the two of them, but finally, his eyes widened and he stared at Ashla with a haunted expression. “Aunt ‘Soka?”

“Hello, Ezra. I’m glad you finally decided to rejoin the land of the living.” Ashla answered, and on any other day, that answer might have been sarcastic, but her sincere voice combined with the tears in her eyes would have dissuaded anyone from that notion.

Ezra’s eyes filled with tears, as well, and he started to push himself up so that he was sitting, only to immediately cry out and crumple back onto the bed. Immediately Kix and Ahsoka surged forward, but Ashla beat them there. She was on the bed in an instant, shifting Ezra so that he was sitting halfway in her lap. Kix grabbed some sort of scanner and waved it over Ezra’s body, but his trembling reaction told them exactly what had caused his collapse.

Shaking, Ezra lifted his left arm—what was left of it—staring at it with a horrified expression. “My arm—Kix, my _arm—”_

Ashla shushed him, rocking him slightly as he started crying from pain and shock, still staring at the stump that ended just past his elbow. “I know, Ezra. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there sooner.” She carefully wiped away the few tears that leaked out of the corners of his eyes, and Ahsoka reached over and took his hand now that Ashla had let go of it.

“We’re right here, Ezra. We’ll be with you every step of the way,” she promised. If that was what it took to make up for landing him here without his left arm, it was what she’d do.

Ezra squeezed her hand painfully as he turned and buried his face in the crook of Ashla’s neck. He wasn’t crying—aside from the tears of shock and pain that had sprung to his eyes when he’d put weight on his arm—but he was shaking.

Running her hand through Ezra’s hair, Ashla looked over the top of his head at the rest of the group, looking pained. Kix’s expression mirrored hers, but Rex’s was a stony mask. Ahsoka couldn’t even get a feel for his emotions in the Force, he had his walls up so tight. The one thing she could read was his body language, which was screaming that he was about to walk out the door.

Before he could, Ahsoka grabbed Rex’s arm in her free hand, pulling him into the stool Ashla had abandoned. He shot her a look that silently protested what she was doing, but she ignored it. Instead, she shifted her grip so that they were now holding hands, telling herself it was just to keep him there and not at all because she wanted the physical connection, and pulled both his stool and hers towards the bed. Rex let her, clearly having given up.

“Are you real?” Ezra whispered, and it didn’t take being Force-sensitive to know who he was talking to.

“I’m real,” Ashla said at a similar volume. “I’m here. And Ahsoka’s right. We’ll be here with you every step of the way.” Somehow Ahsoka knew her counterpart didn’t mean every step of the recovery.

Immediately, Ezra pressed his head against her shoulder and he sobbed. The first hiccuping one startled Ahsoka so badly she nearly fell off her stool, but it just made Ashla hold him closer. She was still shushing him and rocking him back and forth, and that only seemed to make him cry harder. He’d pulled his hand out of Ahsoka’s grip and was now holding tightly to Ashla’s tunic, twisting his fingers in it so tightly she was surprised it wasn’t cutting off circulation.

For a minute, Ahsoka debate pulling herself, Rex and Kix out of the room to give them a minute, but before she could, Ezra suddenly looked up, pulling away from Ashla as best he could so he could get a good look at her face. “Kadavo—you weren’t there, were you?”

Ashla shook her head. “I wasn’t one of the captives.”

“It was your aunt that saved us,” Rex said, and Ezra looked over at him, clearly worried.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and Ahsoka felt her jaw drop.

“You just spent a week in bacta, and you’re asking if we’re alright?” Shaking her head, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “If I actually had hair, it’d probably be going grey now and it would be entirely your fault.”

“What about Anakin and Obi-Wan?”

Kix huffed. “They’re fine. General Kenobi’s a bit underweight still, but assuming the medics of the 212th are doing their job, he’ll be back in fighting form within the next couple of days. General Skywalker wasn’t even hurt, and yes, I checked to be sure. You need to worry about you.”

Ezra shook his head. “What about the colonists? Are they—”

“Already taken care of, Ezra,” Ashla cut in. “You are literally the only one who is still recovering.”

“But where’s Obi-Wan? He’s not here—”

“He’s on the _Negotiator,”_ Kix reassured him in his usual no-nonsense manner. “He left the day before yesterday, although he wanted to stay. You’re going to be staying here with us until you’re cleared for duty.”

Ezra finally seemed to accept that and sat back, still resting his head on Ashla’s shoulder. He’d been awake for less than ten minutes and he looked utterly exhausted. With a sympathetic smile, she patted Ezra’s hand. “We should let you get some rest.”

“Food first,” Kix interrupted. “You’re not ready for solids yet, but you still need nutrition. And I want to do a quick exam now that you’re awake.”

Ahsoka nodded and stood, pulling Rex up with her. She still hadn’t let go of his hand. “Okay. We’ll let you do that.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Ashla asked softly as they walked out the door, and while they couldn’t here the reply, the fact that Ashla joined them outside Ezra’s room was answer enough.

“D’you think he’ll be okay?” Rex asked Ashla, who sighed and shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

_______

Ezra’s hand shook slightly as he tried to bring the spoonful of nutrient paste (it had some medical name that Kix had called it, but honestly it was just nutrient paste) to his mouth, but dropped the spoon back into the bowl. Frustrated, he shoved the bowl away. He couldn’t do it. With just one hand would have been manageable, but his muscles wouldn’t stop spasming, and Kix acted like that wasn’t a surprise. He’d just said that it should pass in a day or two.

A soft chuckle from the door made him look up. “Need help?”

Ezra sighed and sat back, drinking in the sight of his aunt. “I could use a hand,” he said bitterly, and Ashla’s smile turned sad.

“You sound like—”

“Skywalker? Yeah, I’ve gotten that plenty from your younger self,” Ezra cut in, trying to cross his arms, but the lack of one meant he had to settle for hugging himself awkwardly instead.

“Actually, I was going to say you sound like your Master, but I suppose I could see why you’d think I was going to say Skywalker. I seem to recall him making a number of similar jokes,” Aunt ‘Soka—Ashla, whatever—said as she sank onto the bed next to him and picked up the bowl of paste.

Ezra grimaced at the idea of being spoon-fed, but better her than Kix, or Force forbid, Rex or Ahsoka, so he obediently opened his mouth when she brought the spoon near.

After spending over five months with her younger counterpart, it was beyond weird to have his aunt here with him. Of course, he couldn’t imagine how weird it was for the both of them, looking at someone and knowing that at one time or another that was you.

Swallowing the mouthful of paste Ashla had given him, he averted his eyes, realizing he was staring. “How long’s it been?”

Ashla sighed heavily as she set the bowl aside. “A bit less than three and a half years. I understand it’s been about that time since Malachor for you as well?”

Ezra nodded. He’d suspected as much, but it hadn’t come up in discussion yet.

“Ezra,” Ashla said gently, “I know that means it’s been only a little over a year for you, but… Force, I’m bad at this. Ezra,” she cupped his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes, “it’s okay to grieve. For him, and for you. I know how much you lost just by ending up here, and that’s still fresh. It’s okay to grieve for the chances you lost. I know I have, but I had less to lose than you did. 

“So don’t try to be okay because I am. Take your time. Cry, scream, beat something up if you have to, but let it out. You’ve got at least a month of rehab head of you; use that time to process. I know you want to do this all lone-wolf, but Ezra, Loth-wolves are social creatures. You need people around you to help. Don’t keep pushing them away.”

Ezra nodded to show that he’d heard, but inside his thoughts were whirling. He didn’t want to process it. Processing it meant accepting it, and he wasn’t ready to do that. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the last shred of hope that he’d see his family again. He wasn’t ready to be alone again.

But then… he wasn’t completely alone anymore, was he? Ashla was here, which meant he had someone he could turn to, someone who understood both what he’d gone through coming here and what he was going through now that he was on the front lines of the largest war the galaxy had seen in centuries. If he had her, maybe, just _maybe,_ he wouldn’t be completely shattered when the last wall of denial finally broke.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Ezra quickly swiped at his eyes, shooting Ashla a teary smile as he did. She smiled back and picked up the bowl again. A few mouthfuls of bland paste later, Ezra stopped her from giving him more.

Shifting in the bed, Ezra frowned. “You don’t think it’s a coincidence, do you.”

Ashla pursed her lips, lifting the spoon to Ezra’s mouth as she visibly turned the not-a-question over in her mind. “Of all people who could have been pulled back, does the fact that it was the two of us, the two people who’ve been to the World Between Worlds, seem like a coincidence? Not really. This is the work of the Force, I don’t doubt. My only question is why it decided to pull us back five months ago, rather than last year when you accessed the door.”

“I think I might know the answer to that,” Ezra said reluctantly, and Ashla raised an eyebrow marking, setting the bowl aside once again. With a sigh, Ezra explained, “Five months ago—nineteen years from now—I found another door—or maybe it was the same door, and it moved after the Lothal temple was destroyed. Long story,” he added at Ashla’s shocked expression, not wanting to dive into the details at that moment. Ashla nodded and he continued. “At that point, I’d already cut myself off from the Force—”

“Which was a rash decision on your part, Ezra, and don’t think you’re not getting a lecture about it later,” Ashla interrupted with an expression eerily reminiscent of Hera’s whenever he and/or Zeb acted out.

Ezra grimaced. Lectures like the one she was promising were never fun, no matter who was giving it. “Anyway, I’d already cut myself off from the Force, so I didn’t use the Force to open the door—to be honest, I was planning on leaving the door alone. But something happened—if I had to describe it, I’d say it was like the Force was using me instead of the other way around.

“Next thing I knew, everything around me had changed. The ship I’d arrived on was gone, as were the people I had been with. A couple days later, a Separatist ship picked me up, and they threw me in prison with Ahsoka. After that… well, I’m sure they’ve filled you in.”

Ashla hummed softly, a sound she’d made before but that he only just now realized was an imitation of Obi-Wan. It was weird, actually, how many of Ashla’s mannerisms he’d noticed in both Obi-Wan and Anakin—although logically, he knew it was the other way around. She’d picked them up from the two Jedi, after all, not they from her.

“That does fit with my theory of how,” Ashla said softly, “but why? And why now?”

Sitting forward, Ezra pressed his lips together, remembering what the Bendu had said. When he said Ezra wasn’t alone, did he mean Ashla? Maybe.

Thinking of the Bendu reminded him of what the behemoth had said. “I might have the answer to that.”

** _______ **

“You’re leaving?” Ahsoka asked in astonishment, looking lost.

Ashla just smiled sadly and nodded. Beside her, Rex sighed. “It’s getting harder for her to hide, ‘Soka. You know that. Besides the fact that she can’t really do anything here without General Skywalker finding out who she is, there’s more she can do out and about in the galaxy than she could do here.” He wasn’t happy about it, either, but Ashla was right. She needed to leave before she got discovered.

Ahsoka sighed heavily. “I know, Rex, I do, it’s just—” she waved behind them at the open door to Ezra’s room, where Kix was running a few tests to determine when he’d be able to go into surgery to prep for a prosthetic— “he’s still reeling, and I-I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“If it makes you feel any better, neither do I,” Ashla said with a wry smile.

“That’s comforting,” Rex muttered. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ahsoka cross her arms.

“I get that, but Ashla, you at least have some idea of what to do and what’s going to happen. If something goes wrong, we’ll be lost.”

“You’ll be no more lost than I was when I went through this,” Ashla said reassuringly. Ahsoka looked up at her as she rested her hands on Ahsoka’s shoulders. “And I am not abandoning you. I’ll have my comm on me, and you can always call me if you need something. Besides that, I’ve also got datapads for all four of you, with details and a rough timeline so that you’ll have some form of guidance.”

Ahsoka sighed. “Is that what you gave Obi-Wan?”

Ashla nodded. “And if you need me, I’ll come, damn the consequences. Even if it means Skyguy finds out, I’ll be there.”

“We’ll keep you updated,” Rex promised, glad that Ashla had been able to get through to his commander, “about what we’re doing and how he is.” He jerked his head in Ezra’s direction, and Ashla smiled gratefully.

“Thank you, Rex,” she said, then sobered. “Now the fun part. I get to explain this to Ezra.”

Ahsoka and Rex shared a grimace. He certainly did not envy Ashla that experience.

Rex waited until Ashla left the room before going in. Ezra was staring at the wall, his expression somehow both vacant and hurt. With a sigh, Rex realized this probably wasn’t the best time to have a conversation on an already emotionally charged subject, but it was a conversation that needed to be had, and if he kept putting it off it would never happen.

“Hey, kid,” he said softly as he sat on the stool by Ezra’s bed.

Ezra startled, blinking as he focused on Rex. “Oh, hi, Rex,” he mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest. There was a small bundle of items at the foot of his bed, including what looked like a set of civilian clothes, including an orange shirt that had been pulled out of the bundle and laid out on top of it. Probably a parting gift from Ashla, considering that he had seen her go in with a full satchel and come out with an empty one.

Rex sighed again. Ezra was giving off such an aura of misery it didn’t take a Force-sensitive to know how he was feeling. “I know it sucks that she’s leaving, but it’s necessary. She’s too recognizable, not to mention that she stands out. If General Skywalker sees her, he’ll find everything out.”

“And that’ll be bad. I know, I just…” Ezra trailed off, still avoiding Rex’s eyes. “I just got her back, you know? And now she’s leaving m—she’s just leaving!”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat because he really wasn’t the best person for this, Rex turned Ezra’s slip over in his mind. It dawned on him that this was exactly what Ahsoka had told them about: he was afraid of losing anyone else, and now Ashla was leaving—leaving _him._ If he thought that he was losing her, of course he’d turn it around and blame himself.

Well, of course Rex had to correct that notion. “I know it’s tearing at her to leave you again. It’s been, what, a year and a half since she saw you last? She probably hates leaving you again.”

Ezra’s lips twitched downward and Rex got the feeling he’d said something wrong. “It’s actually been three and a half years since she’s seen me.” At Rex’s confused expression—Ezra glanced up just briefly enough to catch it—he added, “Let’s just say this wasn’t our first experience with time travel.”

Filing that away to question Ashla about later, Rex sighed. “You know that wasn’t my point. She promised she’d come as soon as we call, should she need to. And it’s not like the two of you don’t have comms. Plus, I have the feeling as soon as the war’s over she’ll come back and the two of you can gallivant around the galaxy or try to find a way back to your time.”

“There isn’t a way back,” Ezra said tiredly, pushing his hair out of his face. “At this point we’ve altered the path of destiny so much that the future we knew is gone. They—they’re gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Rex said softly, not sure what else he could say. He hadn’t really believed there was a way for Ezra to go back, but he wanted to give the kid something to hope for, something to live for—even if that thing later turned out to be impossible.

Reaching out, he put his hand on Ezra’s shoulder only for him to immediately shrug it off. Rex raised an eyebrow. The kid was struggling and he didn’t want any sort of support? No, he realized, Ezra didn’t want _Rex’s_ support. He still blamed him for what happened on Zygerria. Begrudgingly, Rex understood and accepted the blame. It was his fault after all.

But maybe he could help clear the air. “Ezra… I wanted to let you know that I understand why you decided not to tell us about the chips.” Ezra looked up with an unsure expression, finally meeting Rex’s eyes. “You made the best decision you could in the middle of an environment you didn’t fully understand. I… can understand that. I’m not saying I completely forgive you, but… I’ll work on it.”

Ezra cracked a small smile. “Thanks, Rex.” He looked down again, playing with the hem of the blanket. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I know,” Rex said. It wasn’t like Ezra hadn’t apologized multiple times for lying to them—it was just that Rex needed more time to process everything and to work up the empathy to forgive him. Although Ezra probably needed that time, too, to forgive him for what he put him through in the mines. Thankfully, they’d be spending the next month or so in relatively close proximity, so they’d have plenty of time to rebuild trust.

Sighing, he stood. “I think Charger has finally convinced Kix that you can handle having him as a visitor, so he should be in here soon.”

Immediately, Ezra brightened. “Really? I was wondering where he was—wait. Didn’t the men from the 212th go back to the _Negotiator?”_

“Yeah, but Charger and a few others are staying with us for the time being. I’ll let him tell you the reason why.”

“What? Why can’t you tell me now?” Ezra complained, but he was smiling, so Rex knew he was partially joking.

“Because that’d ruin the surprise,” Rex answered easily, returning Ezra’s smile. It felt good to have this bit of banter, like this was just another day and Ezra was just another brother in the Grand Army of the Republic.

Ezra looked down, still smiling, and Rex felt his shoulders relax a little. Turning, he left the room, passing Charger in the hallway as the other clone hurried excitedly through the medbay towards Ezra’s room. Biting back his smile at how predictable his other brother was, he left the medbay.

_______ 

Ezra knew Charger was in the medbay before he actually came into his room. Partially that was because Ezra was familiar enough with Charger’s Force signature to recognize him, partially because of the annoyance Kix was projecting.

Mostly because of the noise.

The rhythmic pounding of footsteps stopped right outside his door and he heard Kix say something in an exasperated voice, then the door slid open and Charger waltzed in with a triumphant smirk. Behind him, Kix was rolling his eyes, and Ezra smiled.

“Hey, Charger. Up for that drink?”

Charger laughed and sat down in the stool Rex had just vacated. “Pretty sure Kix and the meds in your system wouldn’t like that, and besides, I was gonna wait until we got to 79’s on Coruscant. We’re bound to visit sometime soon.”

Ezra had to force the smile to stay on his face at the thought of going back to Coruscant. Just the once had been bad enough, but the idea of being on the same planet as the piece of _osik_ calling himself Chancellor Palpatine made his skin crawl. “Well, in that case, what’d you come here for?” The teasing made his smile come a bit more easily, thankfully.

Charger flashed him a grin and propped his feet up on Ezra’s bed. “I wanted to let you know that you are now in charge of your own squad. I’m your second-in-command, obviously.”

“Wait, seriously?” That was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Having his own squad would actually make running missions easier, as it would be more like missions with the Rebellion. Of course, he knew this was also a way for Obi-Wan to ensure that he had someone constantly watching his back, but he didn’t mind.. He’d learned to fight with a team at his back, going back to that was something to look forward to.

“Yeah, seriously. Got it officially approved and everything,” Charger said, looking smug. “You’ve actually already met a couple of the boys who volunteered for this assignment. Adenn’s the pilot who crashed us onto that desert planet—”

“That wasn’t his fault,” Ezra interjected.

Charger carried on like he hadn’t heard. “—and CT-3108, the rookie.”

“Oh,” Ezra said, surprised. The way the kid had been hero-worshiping General Skywalker, he’d assumed he would rather stay with whatever squad he’d been with before. Better chance of working with Obi-Wan—and thus, with Skywalker—that way. Out of idle curiosity, and with a bit of disappointment, he asked, “He hasn’t chosen a name yet?”

“No. But something tells me he’ll find it soon. Now, the real reason I’m here—” Ezra raised an eyebrow because he would have guessed that telling him about the squad was the reason he was there “—Rex told me some very alarming things. So I’m going to ask questions, and you’re going to answer as honestly as you can.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to get out of this, Ezra nodded. Charger seemed to take that as his cue to start the interrogation—and why did these interrogations always happen in the medbay? He really needed to start avoiding being sent there.

“Alright, first off. Rex said you dropped the rock intentionally. Why.”

Ezra sighed. “Because a Togrutan colonist, one of the people we launched the mission to protect, was in danger. And… yeah, okay, I’ll admit drawing attention to myself wasn’t the smartest option, but—”

“Don’t say it worked. If it had worked, no one would have walked away injured.”

“It was a no-win scenario!” Ezra insisted, trying hard not to get too worked up. Kix would have his hide if his heart rate picked up more than twenty beats per minute. “I did the best I could with the options I had available. And besides, I know how to handle pain. The colonists don’t.”

Charger swung his feet off the bed and sat forward, looking Ezra right in the eye in a way that made him feel a bit uncomfortable. In another life, Hera and Charger would have gotten along well. They both had a way of ripping a person open in the most gentle, unrelenting way imaginable.

“See, what I’m hearing is that you saw yourself getting hurt as the only option. And normally I’d let that slide; if civilians are in danger, we have to do everything we can to protect them, right? But this isn’t a normal situation. Between the fact that you were already hurt and the fact that you’re obviously depressed, I see this as more of a way of punishing yourself.

“So, that begs the question,” Charger sat back, crossing his arms. “Why do you think you deserve to be punished?”

Ezra grimaced. Force, did he not want to answer that question. Partially because he didn’t want to deal with Charger’s disappointment—and he always disappointed, didn’t he?—but mostly because if he did answer, he’d be silently admitting that Charger was right. He could refuse to answer and keep denying it, but… remembering what Charger had done the last time he’d got himself buried in denial, he decided that wasn’t the best option. He’d seen how much bacta the medics had used just to patch up his face.

That left deflection, lying, or partial truths to avoid answering honestly, and as appealing as the idea of not continuing this conversation was… he was tired. Tired of lying, of misdirecting, of keeping the stories he told and the images he projected straight in his head. He was tired of carrying this all by himself.

Looking down at his lap, Ezra softly admitted, “I’m a terrible person, and an even worse friend. That’s why I deserved it. I let Rex, Kix, and Ahsoka down, I let Obi-Wan down, I even let down the colonists because I was supposed to save them but didn’t. I had to be rescued myself.” There were more people he’d let down, Hera and the rest by leaving and never coming back, and by refusing to let go, refusing to learn to let go, he’d let down his Master.

Those weren’t things he could unpack with Charger, though. Instead he sighed and added, “But worse I kept secrets, secrets that could potentially ruin and end lives. That’s why I didn’t fight back.”

It hurt, admitting all of that. Like pulling a thorn out of his skin. But the relief it left in its wake was like a lump of durasteel had finally been removed from its place in his gut. The guilt didn’t feel as close, but the pain did. Quickly swiping at his eyes, Ezra glanced over at Charger, whose expression was sympathetic.

“Kid…” Charger trailed off, then straightened. “First things first: the colonists. Don’t say you didn’t save them, because you did. You used yourself as a shield to protect them from the slavers, which would have been brave it hadn’t also been stupid and suicidal.” Ezra wanted to protest—not the stupid and suicidal part, but rather the saving them part—but Charger just kept plowing on.

“Second: You have never once let me or Obi-Wan down. If you let the others down, it’s because they were holding you to ridiculously high standards no one could be able to meet. Thirdly, even if you did let them down, that doesn’t mean you deserved to be punished. It means you need to try harder next time and make up for your mistakes. Lastly, no matter what you’ve done you certainly didn’t deserve to lose an arm. Or to be tortured. No one deserves that. So in conclusion, every word you just said is wrong.”

Ezra nodded, but didn’t reply. He knew all of this intellectually, but it still didn’t seem right, like that logic, normal when applied to everyone else, didn’t hold true for him. He had let Obi-Wan down. He hadn’t told him about the chips, or the time-travel, and he’d done his best to avoid training for the first month he’d been on board.

And he _did_ deserve it. There were always consequences for this kind of screw-up. Losing an arm was barely even that bad, considering they’d just give him a replacement. The scars would heal, the pain would fade, and eventually it would be like it never happened.And just like that, all the permanent reminders of this particular mission would be gone.

“Oh, no, don’t you start,” Charger said, startling Ezra and making him look up. “I know you’re thinking of all the reasons I’m wrong.”

“Well, you are,” Ezra muttered under his breath.

Apparently not quietly enough for Charger to miss. “No, I’m not. What I am is just as guilty as you.”

Ezra snapped his head up to stare at Charger. “What? No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. If I had gone with you, or if I’d convinced Commander Cody and Admiral Yularen to launch a rescue party sooner, you would have come out of it unscathed—or slightly more unscathed.”

“Or the Zygerrians would have seen you coming and started executing us. I’d be a lot less unscathed without my head. It was outside of your control, and no one’s gonna blame you for something you couldn’t have changed,” Ezra shot back, then realized he’d fallen right into Charger’s trap when the trooper raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the same!” He insisted.

“Oh, I think it is,” Charger said, surprisingly not smugly. “You did everything you could to affect the outcome; so did I. So what if it wasn’t enough? We survived, we’ll do better next time. And no one’s gonna blame us because we did all we could. Besides,” he added ruefully, “I’m pretty sure they’ll all be too busy blaming themselves.”

Ezra sat back against the headrest, raising an eyebrow and hugging himself around the middle. He was about to retort that they shouldn’t blame themselves as they weren’t the ones to blame, but realized he’d just be making Charger’s point for him. Instead, he just shook his head in disbelief. “Well, they shouldn’t.”

“Mm-hm. And neither should you.”

Ezra heaved a sigh. “Okay, Charge. I’ll work on it.”

“That’s all I can ask, Commander.”

“Oh, for the love of—Charger, that is not my title!”

_______ 

Kix was mildly surprised, when, a few days after Ashla left, Obi-Wan commed him to ask if he could ask both Ahsoka and Rex to comm him as soon as they could. He was not surprised when Ahsoka and Rex called Obi-Wan as soon as they could and immediately roped both Kix and Ezra into a group call in Ezra’s room in the medbay.

“All due respect, sir, but you could have told me you wanted to talk to all of us,” Kix said as he sat in one of the two stools. Ahsoka had claimed a spot at the foot of the bed and was messing with Ezra’s feet while he glared at her and tried to kick her off. Rex was sitting in the other stool, watching the other two as they messed with each other.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly. _“My apologies, Kix. I only deemed it necessary after assessing both Captain Rex and Ahsoka. Now,”_ he clasped his hands together behind his back and a business-like expression appeared on his face, _“I understand that after our last mission, we all need time to recover, and high command has been gracious enough to give us that. Unfortunately, it has come to my attention that we are not all using this time appropriately.”_

Ezra looked almost offended as he tried to push Ahsoka away with his feet. “It’s not like I have any other choice but to recover, Master.”

 _“Physically, yes, your recovery is coming along nicely. But you—and the rest of us—have been neglecting our mental recovery,”_ Obi-Wan shifted as he said this, the only clue that this was a slightly uncomfortable topic for him. _“Whether we want to admit it or not, we have al been through a very traumatic experience, and after talking to all of you, and to Anakin who’ll be getting his own version of this talk, I have noticed that there is a lot of guilt and blame being thrown around._

 _“Only,”_ Obi-Wan went on as the other three looked down at the floor, _“Each of you believes the blame lies in yourself and that the others all blame you as well.”_

Kix raised an eyebrow, casting a look around the room. Rex’s jaw and fist were both clenched, and he looked pained. Ezra had curled in on himself, ducking his head so that Kix couldn’t see his face, and Ahsoka’s concern was visible on her face.

“But, Master,” she said, and Kix readied himself to correct whatever misguided bantha poodoo she said next, “It is my fault. If I had just used the advantage I had with the queen, than the rest of you wouldn’t have—and Ezra wouldn’t have—” She cut herself off as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I am so sorry, Ezra, Rex. What you went through on Kadavo… it was my fault.”

“Bantha poodoo.”

“That’s a load of _osik_ and you know it, Commander.”

“No it’s not, it was outside of your control.”

Kix, Rex, and Ezra all chorused at the same time. Ahsoka opened her mouth to protest, but Ezra added, “Would you blame me for not helping more in the mines, or for jumping down to help Rex instead of backing you up?”

“No,” she said adamantly, “but—”

 _“No, Ezra’s right,”_ Obi-Wan interrupted. _“None of this is in any way your fault, and even if it were, we’d forgive you.”_

“You’re our _vod’ika,_ Commander,” Kix said, watching her carefully as she looked away, flushing. “We’ll always have your back, and nothing you can do will change that.”

Obi-Wan straightened and, looking at the other two Kadavo survivors, said, _“That goes for the two of you as well. It wasn’t your fault, and we wouldn’t blame you even if it was.”_

Beside him, Rex rubbed the back of his head. “It’s not as simple as that, General.”

“No, it’s not,” Ezra agreed, and Kix sent him a surprised look. He was much more on the ‘don’t blame yourself’ train than the rest of them were. Probably had something to do with Charger’s visit a few days before. His _vod_ had left the room with a triumphant grin, so he’d probably gotten through to Ezra before this conversation.

Ezra went on, “Honestly, understanding that no one else blames you isn’t the hard part. It’s… it’s just forgiving yourself, and knowing that it’s okay to forgive yourself. That’s—that’s the hard part.” He looked down at his hand in his lap, and Ahsoka reached over and rested her hand on his knee.

“Yeah, that’s exactly it,” she whispered softly.

Kix sighed. It was hard, watching them all struggle through this without being able to properly empathize, but he knew they had it harder. Even now that they had collectively agreed that they weren’t at fault, the guilt still lingered in their faces.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Obi-Wan fold his hands in his sleeves. “I understand that, believe me, I do. I’ve had to spend a lot of time reflecting on this, which is why I’m only having this discussion with you all now. If I could have, I would have had it two weeks ago when you first woke up, Ezra. But as it is, I couldn’t, so I didn’t, and here we are now. But however long it has taken us to be ready for this discussion, we must all accept that it was not our fault. After all, who was it that necessitated us being there in the first place?”

“The Zygerrians,” Rex said reluctantly, and Obi-Wan nodded.

“Exactly. It was their doing that put us in that position, and thus, the blame lies with them.”

“In other words,” Kix cut in, “stop being idiots. It’s over, it’s done, and blaming yourselves isn’t going to change what happened.”

Ezra nodded, but the other two didn’t, instead looking down at their feet. Kix wanted to be annoyed, but honestly, it was understandable that they didn’t just accept it. Emotions were tricky things. That’s why he much preferred fixing physical wounds. Much simpler and easier to tell when they’re healed.

After a beat of silence, Rex said softly, “It was my fault that Ezra was targeted, though.” looking up, he met Ezra’s eyes. “I’m sorry for that, Ezra, and I’m sorry for reacting the way I did about the chips. I think—no, I know I’m ready to forgive you for that. I just hope you can forgive me.”

Ezra scoffed lightly. “Rex, there’s nothing to forgive. I never blamed you for that and I honestly never expected you to forgive me for the chips. You shouldn't blame yourself for that.”

“Well, then,” Obi-Wan said when it became clear the rest of them were done talking, “Now that we’re all friends again, perhaps we can get around to the secondary purpose of this call: what exactly were you four up to before I was informed of all of this?”

Kix looked over at the other three and as one they all grimaced.


	14. Darkness Exists to Make Light Truly Count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters, because the dialogue just happened so naturally. Hope you enjoy! The next chapter will be out on the 5th, and you might notice that there is officially a chapter count! So, only four more chapters to go.

Anakin had never been one to sit still, not even while meditating. He focused better when his hands had something to do, which is why he often meditated while tinkering with a droid or an engine. At the same time, though, it was easy to lose himself completely in the motions of fixing stuff that he often used it as a method of distracting himself when he didn't want to think.

Now would be a good example of the latter. He’d been under the console of the  _ Twilight  _ for the past hour or two (possibly longer, he wasn’t exactly keeping an eye on the chrono), trying to fix a slight problem with the alignment of the steering yolk. At the same time, he’d been trying hard not to think about Zygerria.

He’d promised himself once that one day, he’d free all the slaves everywhere, but this last mission had shown him just how bad he was at keeping promises. Not only had he failed to liberate all of the slaves—or even save all the slaves; so many had died—but he’d put his team in danger because of his own arrogance.

Thinking he could charm the Zygerrian queen into not noticing their not-so-subtle search for the missing colonists… what kind of karking idiot was he? Now Ezra was missing an arm, he, Rex and Obi-Wan were traumatized by their time in the mine, and Ahsoka could barely stand to be in the same room as him for more than a few minutes at a time. The only exception was when they had to train together, and even then, she kept finding reasons to cut it short.

The reason she cited most was wanting to check on Ezra, which, now that he was awake, seemed to be both a better and a worse excuse. It was better because now that he was awake, she could actually talk to him, but it was worse because now that he was in a position to talk, he should be able to reassure her that he was fine without her having to cut their meditation exercise short.

Still, he knew why she really wanted to cut their time together short. It was because she could barely stand to look at him, because of how massively he’d underestimated those _shabla_ slavers and how massively he’d overestimated his own abilities. She couldn’t stand to be around him because he’d failed.

With a shake of his head, Anakin tried to push that thought away as he reached for a hydrospanner. No, he’d come to the  _ Twilight  _ specifically so he wouldn’t have to think about that. He just wanted some peace and quiet.

“Where’d you learn how to fix engines?” 

A voice startled him, and he jerked upright, slamming his head into the underside of the console. With a yelp, he pushed himself out from under the console and stared incredulously at Ezra, who was sitting on the floor next to the copilot’s seat with a sheepish expression. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Anakin shook his head. “When did you get in here?”

Ezra raised his eyebrows. “I’ve been handing you tools for the past forty-five minutes while you were angsting.”

“I wasn’t ‘angsting,’” Anakin shot back, swinging himself around so that his back was resting against the pilot’s chair.

“Tell that to the cloud of ‘woe is me’ you had hovering around you.” Ezra said, nudging a ration bar his way with his foot.

Anakin took it as his stomach loudly reminded him that he’d been making mealtime less of a priority recently. As he ate, he studied Ezra. He hadn’t actually seen him since before he’d woken up a bit over a week ago, but he certainly looked better than he had while he was in bacta. He’d started regaining weight, and although the empty sleeve looked odd, Ezra seemed to be compensating for the uneven weight distribution well. The scars around his neck were faded and only barely visible, but Anakin knew they’d be permanent. Just a little reminder of an already traumatic experience.

“You never answered my question,” Ezra said, and Anakin raised an eyebrow.

“What was the question again?”

“Where you learned to fix engines. Or ships in general, I guess.”

Anakin shrugged. “I’ve always had a knack for it. Growing up, I spent a lot of time just tinkering with whatever spare parts I could find. Built a podracer that turned out to be my ticket off of Tatooine. Since then, I’ve always had projects to work on. It used to annoy Obi-Wan because I’d leave them scattered all over our quarters.”

Ezra chuckled. “How often did he step on the parts?”

“Oh, just about every morning,” Anakin replied, also laughing. Memories of waking up to an profane exclamation of pain sprung up, making him laugh harder. “I think I learned more curse words from him than from anyone else.”

“Wait, wait, Obi-Wan curses? Just, like, over stubbing his toe?”

“I’ve heard him call the cupboards in our kitchenette every Basic curse word, plus some. Yes, he curses.” Anakin shook his head, smiling. He had no idea how they’d gone from discussing engines to laughing about Obi-Wan’s vocabulary, but he was slightly glad for the change of topic. Talking about Tatooine brought up memories of the Sand People he’d slaughtered.

Determined to keep the topic away from that potential minefield, he set down the now empty ration bar wrapper and pushed himself back under the console. “Well, if you’re gonna stay in here, you might as well make yourself useful. Hand me that—”

The tool he was about to ask for was suddenly being offered to him, and Ezra shot him another sheepish smile. “I was doing this for a good while without you realizing I was here, remember? I know which tools you need when for adjusting the steering yolk.”

“Alright, then,” Anakin said, taking the tool. “So where’d you learn how to fix engines?”

“My mom. The adoptive one, I mean.”

“The Twi’lek?” Anakin asked as he passed the tool back to Ezra and received another in return.

“Yeah. She had a ship that was her pride and joy, and our home. When I first came aboard, I was small enough that I could fit in places she couldn’t reach, so she had me help her a lot.”

At some point while he was talking, Anakin sucked in a sharp breath. The words ‘I was small enough’ echoed loudly in his head, and suddenly he was eight years old again, having to clamber into some tiny crawlspace to retrieve something for Watto. Blinking, he took a deep breath and reached out with the Force, anchoring himself on the two nearest, brightest presences. Focusing on them, he took another deep breath and released the pent-up emotion that had been building behind his sternum into the Force.

Clenching his jaw, he resumed working. He’d almost gotten the yolk alignment corrected.

Ezra’s voice startled him yet again, but this time he didn’t jump as badly. “You okay?”

Setting the tool down, Anakin pushed himself out from under the console again and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, avoiding Ezra's eyes. The younger man’s concern was palpable in the Force, and suddenly Anakin realized that his was one of the two signatures he’d grabbed hold of. Shooting him a quick smile, Anakin nodded. “Yeah, just… hit too close to home, you know?”

Ezra winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t know.”

After a pause, Anakin scooted back under the console, determined to get the yolk straightened out. Ezra thankfully understood his unspoken request for a bit of silence, passing him the tools without saying a word.

Eventually, though, Anakin decided that the silence had dragged on long enough. “Where’re you from, Ezra?”

Surprise colored Ezra’s reply. “I was raised on Lothal. You were raised on Tatooine, right?”

Anakin nodded. “Until I was nine.” He was tempted to stop there, but decided this was the best way to ask Ezra a question that had been bugging him for months. “You have any family from Tatooine?”

He could hear the shrug in Ezra’s voice. “Maybe. My biological dad was from the Outer Rim somewhere, but I never exactly had the opportunity to ask. Why?”

“Oh, nothing.” A glance over at Ezra told him that the younger man didn’t believe him, and he pushed himself out from under the console. “Okay, I was wondering because… look, slaves can’t really keep track of their extended family. I don’t know if Mom had any siblings, but I was thinking… You look kind of like her. So I was wondering if maybe—”

“Maybe I’m your cousin or something,” Ezra finished for him, and Anakin nodded.

“I mean, it could just be coincidence that you just so happen to look a bit like her. I mean, there’s billions of humans in the galaxy, right? Somewhere out there, there’s probably someone who looks like he could be Obi-Wan’s twin or something. But I just—I was hoping I had actual family out there somewhere.”

Ezra grimaced. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Anakin asked, confused. “It’s not your fault you have no way of knowing.”

Instead of reassuring him, though, that just made Ezra grimace harder. “No, I meant, I’m sorry about your mom.”

Pain and grief lanced through his chest, and Anakin sat back against the pilot’s chair again, setting his tools down. “How’d you know?”

“You were talking about her in the past tense. That’s how I talk about my family.”

Nodding, Anakin sighed. He hadn’t told anyone about the night his mother died, except for Padme. But something about this kid made Anakin feel perfectly at ease with telling him, like he understood.

“I’d been having these nightmares,” he started slowly, “visions, actually, but I didn’t know that until it was too late. I went to Tatooine to try to make sure she was okay, but I was too late. She died in my arms.”

Ezra didn’t say anything, he just watched Anakin with a pained expression. It wasn’t sympathetic, like Ahsoka’s might have been, or judgemental, like Obi-Wan’s, but it held the same kind of pain he was feeling just thinking about the way his mother had just suddenly gone limp. That gave him the courage to keep going.

“I was so angry. I’m not sure I could have stopped myself if I wanted to and… I killed the people who’d taken her. All of them. And I felt like such a…”

“Monster,” Ezra finished again, but he still didn’t sound judgemental. “You felt like a monster, but you also felt like you had done the right thing, and you knew everyone would be disappointed when they found out, so you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them.”

Anakin studied Ezra’s face and realized he wasn’t empathizing. He was remembering. Immediately, Anakin felt a rush of kinship with the broken boy who’d stubbornly pulled himself together again.Whatever it was that he was remembering, it was obviously just as scarring as that night on Tatooine, but here he was, almost… well, Anakin wasn’t really in a position to judge as he hadn’t know Ezra before the event, but he seemed stronger for having gone through it.

“Hey,” he said as gently as he could. “We made it through.”

Ezra nodded, giving him a half-smile that reassured Anakin that they were done being morbid. Returning the smile a bit more enthusiastically, he slid back under the console and started putting everything back together. He was pretty sure he’d fixed the problem, but he wouldn’t know until the next time he took the  _ Twilight  _ for a spin.

“So,” he said conversationally as he worked, “out of all the places on the ship, why’d you come here?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ezra rub the back of his neck awkwardly. “I may or may not be hiding from Kix.”

“So you came running to me? Thanks. Now he’s gonna think I helped you escape.”

“Sorry, but everyone was hovering and it was getting suffocating. Did you know they had a watch schedule set up? Seriously. I mean, you’d think I was in danger of dying.”

Anakin glanced over at him, eyebrow raised, but no, he wasn’t joking. “Kid, you realize you flatlined on the way here, right?”

“I did what?” Ezra demanded, sitting up straight.

Anakin grimaced. Why hadn’t Kix gone over this with him? “Yeah, apparently human bodies aren’t supposed to take that kind of voltage or else their hearts will be damaged. You’ll have to ask Kix about the specifics, but that’s probably part of the reason they’re hovering.”

“Oh.”

With a small snort at the understated response, Anakin reattached the panel and scooted out from under the console for the last time that day. Ezra was pressing his hand against his chest as if trying to feel the damage—and maybe he was, if he was gifted enough in that area of the Force.

Anakin’s heart ached with guilt as he took the sight in. The empty sleeve, pinned up so it wouldn’t be in the way, the scars that would permanently marr his neck, and the pained expression as the kid pressed his hand to his chest—that was all his fault. If he’d just listened to Ezra—or to common sense—this wouldn’t have happened. 

It wasn’t fair that he was the only one who came away unscathed. Ahsoka had been leered at, starved, and made a spectacle for anyone’s viewing, Obi-Wan and Rex had been starved, scarred, and traumatized, and Ezra’s wounds… well, Anakin knew just how badly losing an arm hurt, and that it would continue to ache for the rest of his life.

“Aaand it’s back.” Ezra’s sudden comment made Anakin look up to realize that Ezra had shifted positions and was now putting all the tools away in the tool chest that stayed on board the Twilight for emergencies.

“What’s back?” Anakin asked, bewildered.

Ezra snorted. “The angsting.”

“I do not ‘angst.’”

“Yes, you do. But hey,” Ezra met his eyes, and Anakin shuddered. There was such intense honesty in those eyes, he knew this conversation was going to end up in uncomfortable territory. “What happened on Zyggeria and Kadavo was not your fault. Obi-Wan, Rex, and Ahsoka will tell you the same thing. We all made decisions, and if we thought your plan wasn’t worth the risk, we wouldn’t have gone along with it.”

Anakin didn’t have a good answer for that. How exactly was he supposed to explain how the guilt felt sitting square on his shoulders? Because despite whatever pretty words Ezra and the others might say, it was still his fault that they’d been in that position in the first place. If he hadn’t let his anger and his arrogance dictate the plan, the mission wouldn’t have gone as badly.

Ezra’s voice pulled his attention off of the guilt churning in his gut. “Besides, if it was anyone’s fault, it was Ahsoka’s. If she’d actually been able to act like a slave, our cover wouldn’t have been blown.”

Immediately Anakin bristled. “Don’t say that. Don’t you put the blame at her feet.”

“Why not? If she’d just used the Zygerrian queen as leverage in the arena—”

“So she made a mistake! Mistakes happen, missions go wrong, and plans go off the rails! It happens, that doesn’t make it her fault!” Anakin exclaimed, and when Ezra raised an eyebrow with a triumphant smirk, he stuttered, “No, that’s not the same—it was my plan and it went wrong!”

Ezra’s smirk widened. “You just said, and I quote, ‘plans go off the rails.’ Obi-Wan wasn’t supposed to be caught, Rex wasn’t supposed to get knocked out, and I wasn’t supposed to jump down into the arena after him. We all made choices that made the mission go south. Stop blaming yourself.”

Rubbing his face, Anakin sighed. Intellectually, he knew Ezra was right. He wasn’t solely responsible for everything that went wrong. But at the same time, those things couldn’t have gone wrong if it weren’t for his ill-conceived plan. “Ahsoka blames me.”

“No, she doesn’t. She blames herself. Plus, she’s worried because one of her friends is MIA.”

“Barriss, right,” Anakin frowned. “How do you know that she blames herself, though?”

“Because I asked her. You know, in a conversation that normal, emotionally healthy people have. How people usually communicate. You should try it some time,” Ezra said sarcastically.

Anakin winced. He knew he was terrible at saying what he felt—his attempts to flirt with Padme on Naboo were proof enough of that—but the idea that his Padawan wasn’t comfortable talking to him about this kind of thing hurt. Granted, he wasn’t great about talking to his Master, so he had only himself to blame, but still. Resolving to comm Obi-Wan later and talk about what happened on Zygerria, he sighed again. “I appreciate the therapy session, kid, but…”

“But it’s hard just to hear ‘it’s not your fault’ and automatically accept it. I know,” Ezra said, and again, Anakin got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t just sympathizing.

“But I’ll work on it,” Anakin promised, and Ezra gave him a half-smile before pushing himself to his feet, groaning as he did. Anakin followed suit, grimacing as his joints popped uncomfortably. “Alright, kid, let’s see how mad Kix is that you gave him the slip.”

_ Two days later _

Ezra woke up slowly. His arm felt pleasantly numb, and for a minute he could imagine that nothing had changed, that he still had his hand and the medic had just had to use a local anesthetic, but unfortunately, he knew the reason he’d been asleep the moment he woke up.

“The surgery went well,” Kix told him as he blinked his eyes open groggily. “No complications. You should be ready for the actual prosthesis in a couple days.”

Ezra nodded as he sat up, not trusting his voice to cooperate this soon after waking up from sedation. Looking down at his arm, he saw that the interface between the prosthetic and the nerve endings in the stump of his arm was indeed ready and waiting for him to heal enough to actually get said prosthetic. Finally. Two weeks of sitting around ‘healing’ and he was more than ready to be healed already so he could get back to the action. Sitting around was torture.

“Ahsoka and the generals are both planetside,” Kix continued as he jotted down something on his datapad. Ezra nodded, remembering that they’d arrived on Coruscant a few hours before the surgery. “We should be hearing about our next assignment shortly, although I expect you to remain out of the action.” He leveled a stern look at Ezra, who raised his hands innocently.

“Do I look ready to fight?” He asked, then winced at the hoarseness of his voice. Kix handed him a cup of water and he nodded in thanks before taking a cautious sip.

Kix gave a small half-smile as Ezra drank. “You don’t look ready to do anything except nap. So I expect you to get some rest soon.”

Ezra knew better than to protest. As best he could, he sent a wave of gratitude Kix’s way. It must of worked, because Kix’s smile widened and he tousled Ezra’s hair. “No thanks needed, vod. Just doing my duty. Now get some rest.”

The moment Kix said that, Ezra’s comm went off, and Kix huffed in frustration as Ezra gave him a pleading look. “Fine. Answer it.”

Grabbing it quickly—as quickly as he could while still shaking off the effects of the anesthesia, Ezra pressed the answer button. “Jarrus here.”

_ “Ezra,” _ Ahsoka’s voice was shaky. Even over the comm, Ezra could tell she’d been crying.  _ “It’s—it’s Obi-Wan. He’s dead, Ezra. Obi-Wan’s dead.” _


	15. Are You Getting Stronger Or Is Time Shifting Weight?

Ashla was woken by the ship’s holocom going off. Groaning, she levered herself up and out of her bunk and made her way to the holotable. As she hit the button to answer the call, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, wondering who was calling at such an early hour. Logically, she understood that sometimes ships’ night and day cycle didn’t line up with other ships’ or with planets, but that didn’t make her happy about being woken up at what was to her the middle of the night.

The holo flickered to life and Ashla was mildly surprised and more than a bit alarmed to see Ezra, a panicked expression on his face.  _ “We kriffed up, Ashla, we kriffed up so bad, I don’t even know how—” _

“Ezra,” Ashla interrupted, taken aback by the sheer panic in his voice, “slow down. Take a breath, then tell me what happened.”

Ezra opened his mouth, then shut it, sucked in a deep breath, and released it in a huff.  _ “I don’t know what we did wrong that changed things, because there’s no way this happened last time, I know he survived so he shouldn’t be dead now—” _

“Ezra!” Ashla interrupted again, then added in as soothing a voice as she could manage, “I don’t understand. Who died?”

_ “Obi-Wan. It was a bounty hunter—Anakin and Ahsoka are going to go after him after the funeral—Force, he’s gone—what did I do wrong? Ashla…”  _ Ezra was crying now, tears sliding down his face as he slid down to the ground.

Ashla blinked, then had to suppress a sigh.  _ Honestly, Kenobi, _ she thought _ , I understand the need for secrecy for that mission to go well, but did you really have to do it so abruptly? Ezra’s still trying to get over what happened on Zygerria and Kadavo, and you couldn’t have filled him in? _

Shaking off her exasperation, she crouched so that she was would appear level with Ezra on his end. “Ezra, this wasn’t your fault. This incident happened last time around to, and it was a miracle no one died then. If fate rolls the chance cube again, do you really think it’s going to come up exactly the same way as before?”

_ “But we might have affected it!” _

“We might have,” Ashla said, doing her best to keep her voice and body language calm when all she wanted to do was roll her eyes. “I know I could have affected it. I mentioned it in passing in the briefing ‘pad I gave him; if you want to blame anyone, blame me.”

Ezra shook his head, looking utterly miserable.  _ “No, it’s my fault, I know it is. This always happens.” _

Normally, Ashla wasn’t that big on physical affection. She left that to the rest of Ezra’s family. But right now she just wanted to wrap him up in a hug and never let him go. Of course he would equate what happened to his Master with what he thought had happened to Obi-Wan. He probably put the death of Ephraim and Mira Bridger in the same category of ‘deaths of parental figures he could have prevented.’ Obi-Wan might have acted more like the exasperated older brother or the cool uncle then a parent, but the similarities between him and the other person who’d taught Ezra the ways of the Force were too big to ignore.

“Ezra…” Ashla didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t ruin the mission before it even got off the ground by spilling the secret on a comm channel that wasn’t secure. All she knew was that she needed to get Ezra out of his misery before he did something stupid… like trying to kill ‘Rako Hardeen.’ She trusted him not to actually kill him, but she didn’t trust him not to do something rash and possibly get Obi-Wan and himself hurt.

“You weren’t there,” she said at last. “There’s nothing you could have done to change what happened, and I’m sure Obi-Wan wouldn’t have wanted you to if it put you in danger. Besides, you’re still recuperating. If you had been there to change things, you could have died too, and where do you think that would leave the rest of us? We’d be mourning the both of you.”

_ “You don’t know that,” _ Ezra said, hugging his knees to his chest and hiding his face in them.

Ashla sighed. “No, I don’t, but you don’t know that it was something you did that changed the outcome. All we do know is that Obi-Wan wouldn’t want us to be blaming ourselves. If anything, he’d be apologizing for getting shot.”

Ezra gave a wet laugh and looked up just long enough to give her a commiserating look.  _ “He would do that.” _

_ And he probably will when he explains himself to you, _ Ashla thought. Out loud, she said, “I know you want to go after the bounty hunter who did this, but Ezra, you still don’t have a new arm. You’d be more of a liability than an asset.”

Ezra looked like he wanted to protest, but slumped back instead.  _ “Okay.” _

“And Ezra?” When he looked back up at her, she gave him a small smile. “Everything will be okay.”

Nodding, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, then reached outside of her field of view and cut the call.

Ashla sat back on her heels, sighed heavily, and rubbed her face. Hopefully Obi-Wan had at least followed her advice about how to handle the situation before it got off the ground.

______

Ezra had been to the Jedi Temple once before, for the Council meeting where he’d delivered the hyperspace coordinates they’d acquired on the Citadel mission to the Jedi Council. The building had been intimidating then, especially since he was trying very hard to keep his Force signature suppressed so the entire Order wouldn’t know he was Force-sensitive. The massive structure was almost as intimidating as the temple on Malachor, except it was the polar opposite, light and warm and alive where the one on Malachor was cold, dead, and empty.

Now, in the darkness of Coruscant’s night, it was no less intimidating, and he still had to keep his Force signature suppressed, but he wasn’t focusing on the grand architecture. He was just focusing on Cody’s feet hitting the floor in front of him as they made their way to the room the funeral was being held in. Mostly he just felt numb, empty in a way that might have been pleasant if it wasn’t for the knowledge that soon the numbness would fade and he’d be left with the pain.

Cody stopped outside a door, and nodded at Ezra before taking up a guard position outside the room. From behind him, Rex moved to take up a similar position on the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath, Ezra returned Cody’s nod and palmed the door open. The clones weren’t allowed in, but there was still a relatively large number of people starting to gather around the low table Obi-Wan was laid out on.

Immediately, Ezra noticed Anakin, cloak drawn around him and hood pulled up over his face. He was staring at the cloth-covered form on the table with a solemn expression. On the other side of the table, Ahsoka was standing next to a Kel Dor Ezra vaguely recognized from the Council meeting, Padme, and a blonde woman who seemed particularly distraught. The rest of the council was there, of course, all with the same solemn expression. Ezra noticed that only four of the five non-Jedi attendants were actually letting themselves cry.

The presence of the fifth one made his skin crawl, but he couldn’t do or say anything about Chancellor Palpatine being there without blowing everything. Besides, he was there to give his final respects to Obi-Wan, not attack the Dark Lord of the Sith. Tightening his shields as best he could, he decided to ignore Palpatine. This wasn’t about him, after all.

Slipping into the small crowd between Ahsoka and Padme, Ezra carefully reached over and grabbed Ahsoka’s hand, squeezing it for a moment in a silent gesture of companionship before letting go.

Some of the Council members seemed surprised to see him, but Ezra didn’t care. He didn’t care if they stared or wondered why he was there. His eyes were fixed on the covered face of one of the few people he’d trusted, now dead for Force-only-knows what reason. It was insulting, almost, that one of the greatest Jedi Masters in the Order was taken down by a simple bounty hunter.

Master Yoda gave a small speech that Ezra mostly tuned out, too busy trying to figure out what exactly he or Ashla had done that could have changed so much so drastically. Ashla had assured him that this wasn’t his fault, just a cruel twist of fate, but she had also seemed mostly indifferent. He knew she cared about Obi-Wan, knew that she respected and even loved her Grandmaster, but she had also mourned him before, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t really processed the fact that he had, in fact, been alive again.

But there was nothing he could pinpoint as the exact cause for things to have gone off the rails like this.

After Yoda had finished, the table Obi-Wan was resting on lowered slowly into the ground, doors sliding into place over him. As they sealed the tomb shut, a bright light shot up into the ceiling, brilliant and warm and not near strong enough to chase away the soul-crushing hurt that was quickly overtaking the numbness.

Tears sprang to his eyes for the first time since Ahsoka had told him the news. This time, it was Ahsoka who grabbed his hand. Letting her guide him out of the room, Ezra kept his head down, not wanting the Jedi Masters to see him crying. He heard one of the clones—Cody, he thought—leave his post by the door to trail behind them as they went a short way down the hall.

“Ezra,” Ahsoka said, pulling them into a little niche, “Are you okay?”

Ezra started to nod, then shook his head. “He’s gone, Ahsoka… he’s just gone.” Mourning the loss of a friend was never going to be easy. Mostly, though, he was crying because once again, he’d lost one of the people he’d relied on to show him the way, or at the very least to help him find it. Everyone was only just recovering from Kadavo, forgiving each other and themselves, and now suddenly this.

“I know,” Ahsoka managed, her own eyes filling with tears, and she grabbed him and pulled him in for a hug.

They stayed there for a solid minute before Cody cleared his throat politely. Ezra and Ahsoka both looked up, then stepped away from each other when they realized Cody had been alerting them to Rex and Anakin’s approach.

Anakin’s grave expression hadn’t changed. How he was remaining stoic when Ezra expected him to be raging right now was a mystery. “Come on, Padawans. We should go somewhere more private.”

Ezra nodded reluctantly and both he and Ahsoka trailed behind Anakin. Cody made to follow, but Rex stopped him from doing so with an arm around his torso and a quiet word. As they made their way through the Temple, Ezra felt eyes on him. Some, he supposed, might be looking at Anakin and Ahsoka in sympathy, but most were probably wondering who he was and what he was doing there.

Eventually, they reached wherever it was Anakin was leading them, and as Ahsoka stared up at him in confusion, Anakin grimaced, the first sign of any sort of emotion Ezra had seen him display since this nightmare had started. “Just for the record, I’m sorry,” he said as he palmed the door open… and led them into a medbay.

Ezra was about to ask what they were doing there when he heard Master Yoda saying, “A better performance than you, your corpse gave,” and… what? Performance? What was he talking about?

Anakin led them into the room Ezra had heard Yoda from, and Ezra and Ahsoka simultaneously froze and gasped. Because sitting on the table, looking perfectly alive and healthy, was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Next to him were Master Windu and Yoda, both looking surprised and somewhat alarmed that the three of them were there.

“Skywalker!” Windu barked at the same time that Ezra swore.

“Oh, you son of a Hutt.” Normally he watched his language more, but after the last couple of days, he felt he was allowed to call Obi-Wan that. “You absolute—and you!” He whirled around to face Anakin again, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You were in on this!” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that Ashla must have known as well, but that seemed less important than the pained grimace on the man in front of him.

Ahsoka, meanwhile, had let out a sharp squeal that he would most definitely be teasing her about later and flung herself into Obi-Wan’s arms. “Don’t ever do that to us again,” she admonished tearfully.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ezra demanded, and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“You’re getting on to me for lying?”

Ezra opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. That was fair. Ahsoka, however, didn’t seem to completely agree. “Why didn’t you tell me, though?”

“Ahsoka, I am in awe of your combat skills, but your acting needs work. I trust you not to say anything, but I couldn’t trust you not to give the game away at its most crucial point.” Obi-Wan didn’t say it cruelly. In fact, he sounded regretful, rubbing her back soothingly.

Windu crossed his arms and glowered. “I thought we agreed that it would only be the Council who was in on this.”

“You agreed to that; I did not,” Obi-Wan said diplomatically. “Besides, I felt it prudent to let my lineage know I was, in fact, not dead.”

Ahsoka stepped back, sniffling and wiping her face with her glove. “I’m really glad you decided to ignore the Council, Master,” she said with a wry smile. Ezra privately agreed. If the Council thought this was a good idea, he’d hate to see what they considered a bad one.

Yoda sighed. “Too much time, with your former Padawan, you have been spending.”

“Obi-Wan,” Windu said looking sterner than ever—and part of Ezra wondered how this very serious man was his Great-Grandmaster— “I understand wanting to tell your lineage, especially given how closely you work together, but did you have to tell him?” He gestured to Ezra, who at that moment crossed his arms defensively.

“Ahsoka would have told me anyway,” he said, with a glance over at said Padawan, who nodded.

“Probably.”

“Mace,” Obi-Wan said calmly, “It’s done. They know, and none of them will tell anyone,” he looked over at the three of them, narrowing his eyes as he added, “including Rex and Cody.”

Eagerly, the two who were just finding out nodded, and behind them Anakin huffed. “Of course, Master, do you think I’m an idiot?”

Ezra gave him a look that said,  _ do you really want to know the answer to that question? _ and Windu sighed. “Fine. I suppose you’re right. But Obi-Wan? Next time, tell us before you disobey your orders.”

“Why, though? Why all the deception?” Ahsoka asked, and Obi-Wan patted her hand and pulled her over to sit on the bed next to him. Remembering that Ahsoka had been the one to first discover that Obi-Wan had ‘died,’ Ezra smiled at the comforting gesture.

“Unfortunately, it was necessary that the galaxy think Obi-Wan Kenobi had died, and that he was killed by Rako Hardeen.”

Ezra frowned. “Why? Was he working for you?”

Harrumphing, Yoda sat down on the floor, folding his small legs in front of him. “Work for us, no bounty hunters do. Our own people, we send on missions. No, Lieutenant, working for us, he was not.”

“Obi-Wan will be assuming Rako Hardeen’s identity while we hold the real Hardeen in custody, then Skywalker will ‘capture’ him.” Windu stated, then explained, “We’ve heard rumblings of a plot to assassinate the Chancellor, and we needed someone to go undercover to discover the plan and foil it. Obi-Wan was the natural choice.”

That didn’t make much sense to Ezra, but then, he had just a bit of a grudge against the Chancellor, so he wasn’t really surprised when his first thought on hearing there was a plot against him was,  _ good for them. _ Even recognizing why the Jedi thought it was necessary to stop them, Obi-Wan still didn’t jump out to him as ‘the natural choice.’ That just seemed like something Mace was saying to make sure they didn’t argue.

Ahsoka seemed to agree—with that last part, anyway. “Why was he the natural choice? Why couldn’t you have picked someone who didn’t really have much on the way of friends? Or who the Republic didn’t rely on as much? Now there’s going to be debates about whether or not we’ll stand as good a chance at winning without him, and the 212th is going to be wondering who their next general will be! you might have made a bigger mess than the one you’re trying to clean up!”

“Padawan,” Anakin reprimanded, and Ahsoka looked down at her feet. “I know you disagree with the Council’s decision, but it’s already been done.”

“Only a short while, this assignment will take,” Yoda said, standing. “Before deployed again, the 212th is, return, Obi-Wan will.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Until then, I’ll be relying on the three of you to keep this quiet. This will only work if everyone thinks I’m dead.”

Ezra quickly nodded, Ahsoka and Anakin copying him seconds later. Then, before anyone else moved, Ezra quickly reached over and pulled Obi-Wan into a hug. It was the first time he’d actually seen him in person since Kadavo, after all, and between that and the relief that he was actually alive, Ezra needed to give him a hug.

After a split second’s worth of hesitation, Ezra felt Obi-Wan’s arms close around him, and he smiled. He wasn’t great at the whole affection thing, but he was trying, and that meant a lot to Ezra.

Windu harrumphed behind him and just because of that, Ezra squeezed a little bit tighter, then let go. “You realize I’m gonna be the one trying to keep the 212th going for the next week or two, right? You’re gonna owe me for that.”

“I’ll add that to the tally,” Obi-Wan said dryly, then got up and pulled Ahsoka into a hug. He murmured something against her montral, although Ezra couldn’t tell what it was, and she relaxed ever so slightly. He then hugged Anakin, who very visibly sagged into the embrace, causing Obi-Wan to stumble back a step and chuckle.

Anakin muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’ll miss you,” and Obi-Wan started rubbing circles on his back.

“I’ll see you shortly,” he muttered reassuringly, and Ezra shook his head at the sight. If it weren’t for the fact that Windu looked like he was five seconds from exploding, he’d think it was sweet.

“Careful, Master Windu,” he said in a snarky undertone, “‘there is no emotion, there is peace.’”

Windu looked at him as if he’d started reciting the Sith code—which he still knew, unfortunately; it was burned into his memory—but that meant he wasn’t looking at Obi-Wan and Anakin as they broke the hug and both surreptitiously wiped their eyes.

“Just try not to make it look too good, would you?” Obi-Wan asked, all business once again, and Anakin laughed.

“We’ll do our best, Master.” With that, he ushered Ahsoka and Ezra both out of the room. Ezra looked back over his shoulder right before the door closed, in time to see Obi-Wan lying down on the bed as a droid hovered over him.

_______

The shuttle ride back to the  _ Resolute  _ had been silent, and not a comfortable kind of silence, either. Ezra had had to avoid both Rex’s and Cody’s eyes, which would have been harder if he hadn’t just looked down at his boots and occasionally sniffled.

That same tactic unfortunately didn’t work now that he was in the medbay—hopefully for the last time—to get the new arm attached. It didn’t look like much, just the rough skeleton of a hand without any synthflesh, but it was better than the all-consuming vacuum were his hand had been before.

Kix was all business as he carefully lined the prosthetic up with the interface, and Ezra had to keep himself from flinching on instinct when he stuck a small bit driver into one of the gaps between the metal ‘bones.’ The medic didn’t seem to care. He just fastened the arm to the interface, then stepped back and grabbed another, smaller tool and fiddled with something else in Ezra’s arm.

This time, Ezra did flinch as suddenly his brain was aware of something that was his arm but at the same time wasn’t. The non-stimulus was weird. It was there, and he knew he could manipulate it, but there was no sensation, no touch. He couldn’t even feel the pressure of Kix’s hand as he turned the arm over. Ezra could, however, feel the arm moving as Kix manipulated it. The strange combination of signals almost made Ezra want to tear the arm off. The only that stopped him was the fact that he couldn’t fight without it, and if he couldn’t fight, he couldn’t watch his friends’ backs.

After a few minutes of adjusting, Kix finally stepped back. “Alright, give that a try.”

With a steadying breath, Ezra slowly curled his left hand into a fist for the first time in over four weeks. Quietly huffing a laugh at how strangely relieving the feeling was, he straightened his hand again, then flexed each finger, then finished by rotating his wrist.

“It feels weird, but it’s definitely better than nothing,” Ezra said, flashing Kix a quick grin.

Kix forced a small smile in return. “You can always get General Skywalker to take a look when he gets back. Hopefully that’ll be soon.”

“Have they caught him yet?” Ezra felt guilty asking, knowing that Rako Hardeen was actually in custody already and if things went according to plan, Obi-Wan would be arrested by Anakin and Ahsoka any time now.

Nodding, Kix started cleaning up the tools he’d used to attach the prosthetic. “Got word about twenty minutes ago. General Skywalker’s already turned him over to the authorities.”

With a sigh, Ezra hopped off the bed. “Okay, good, that’s good. I’m going to go talk to Cody, see how he’s holding up—”

“Ezra,” the soft voice stopped him, and he turned back, looking at Kix, who had slumped ever so slightly, “how are you holding up?”

Ezra opened his mouth to answer, then stopped and shook his head. “Think I’m still in shock. Or denial. I’ll let someone know if and when I need a therapy session.”

Kix raised an eyebrow and Ezra could have kicked himself. “That was a lie. I may not have Jedi training, but I know a lie when I hear one.”

Looking up at the ceiling, Ezra took a deep breath and reminded himself that banging hi head against a wall would not solve any of his problems. “Fine,” he said aloud, and locked the door. “But this stays in this room, okay?”

Kix nodded, suddenly looking trepidatious, and Ezra let out a heavy breath as he sat down in one of the two stools. “Okay,” he started, “Obi-Wan’s not actually dead.”

Kix blinked, then heaved a sigh and massaged his forehead. “What.”

“Don’t be mad, it was the Council’s idea. They faked his death so he could go undercover.”

Another sigh. “Why.”

“Something about a plot against the Chancellor.”

Kix nodded like that explained everything, even though, in Ezra’s mind, they could just not bother and the galaxy would be better for it. “That’s good. Losing the Chancellor now would throw the Republic into chaos, and that wouldn’t be good for the war effort.”

As he massaged his left palm like he was trying to rub feeling back into it, Ezra tried hard not to grimace because that was true. It didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

Despite his efforts, Kix noticed his grimace and sighed. “I know he’s a politician, but he’s not all bad. Well, he could be worse. At least he’s not a Sith emperor.” This time, Ezra didn’t even try to hide his reaction. He physically flinched. Of course, Kix noticed that, too, and straightened. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ezra grimaced. The one secret he’d promised himself he wouldn’t tell until all the clones were dechipped, and he was spilling it to one of said clones. This was not going to end well. “Unfortunately…”

Swearing, Kix ran his hand over his short hair. When he kept cursing and started looking around for something to hit, Ezra got a bit worried. “Kix. Hey, Kix.” Kix looked up and Ezra gave him a pained smile. “I know, it sucks. Trust me when I say that keeping this to myself has been tough, but if Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, or Anakin find out, it’ll change how they act around him and he’ll know something’s up.”

Kix blew ou a heavy breath. “So. General Kenobi faked his death to protect the person who’s going to try to kill him and all the other Jedi in just a few months.”

“Two months, but yeah. And you cannot tell them this until all the clones have been dechipped, otherwise—”

“Otherwise we’ll be putting all the Jedi in danger. I get it. But still…” Kix pinched the bridge of his nose and swore again, this time quietly. “I can’t believe that piece of osik is leading the Republic.”

Ezra nodded in sympathy. “But we’re doing everything we can right now,” he said, then frowned. “Well, I should probably be spending more time with Anakin. If Sidious convinces him to Fall, this would all be pointless.”

“Not all of it,” Kix interjected. “Getting rid of the chips will always be worth it, even if he never tries to issue any of the orders. None of us want to be slaves.”

“I meant all the stuff I’ve been doing, but you’re right. No one deserves that.” At Kix’s nod, Ezra stood. “So, think I can meet my squad in the training room? Most of us have never fought together, and we’d like to get a feel for each other’s fighting styles.”

Kix sighed heavily and made a shooing motion with his hand. “Fine, but take it easy. Don’t strain yourself.”

Ezra gave him a two-fingered salute and unlocked the door. Taking a deep breath and recalling the grief he’d felt at the funeral, he projected that feeling both on his face and into the Force. Hopefully that would keep anyone else form cluing into the fact that Obi-Wan wasn’t actually dead.

He made it to the training room in record time, eager to meet his squad, who were waiting for him when he got there. Of course, he already knew the kid, and he’d seen Adenn—a steely-eyed clone with a tattoo on his neck and scruff on his jaw—on Atollon, but the other two who were waiting for him were unfamiliar.

“Oh, hey, Commander. Love the new arm,” Charger said, softening the snarky remark with a gentle smile.

“Oh, ha, ha, Charge,” Ezra shot back, returning the smile to let Charger know he’d understood that it wasn’t an insult.

Charger’s smile widened to a grin and he pushed himself off of the crate he’d been leaning against. “Right, well. Boys, this is Lieutenant Jarrus, also known as Commander Jarrus. Be sure to call him that, he doesn’t like it.”

Ezra smacked him lightly on the shoulder with his new hand, and Charger looked at him with mock insult, rubbing his shoulder for show. Ezra stuck out his tongue at him, then turned to the others. “Call me Ezra, please, I don’t really answer that well to ‘sir.’ Or ‘Commander.’”

Adenn nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m CT-68—”

“Names, please,” Ezra said, cutting him off. “I have a hard time using numbers instead of names. I’m not even calling the kid here 3108, that just seems wrong.”

Looking over at Charger as if asking for permission, Adenn nodded. “I’m Adenn, then. Sir.”

“Drop the ‘sir,’ Adenn, he said he doesn’t like it,” One of the two unfamiliar clones said in a loud voice. He had a burn scar covering the right side of his face, stopping just shy of his jaw and somehow missing his eye altogether. “I’m called Scorch, by the way. Give you one guess why.”

“Because you lay down a lot of fire?” Ezra said, smiling as he crossed his arms.

Scorch guffawed. “Well, that, too.”

“And this here’s Lockjaw,” Charger said, gesturing to the last clone, who had a buzzcut and a beard, and who nodded respectfully at Ezra but didn’t say anything. “Bet you can guess why he’s called that.”

“I talk. I just don’t talk much.” Lockjaw said in a low undertone, and Ezra laughed at the look of mock surprise on Charger’s face.

“I think that’s more words in a row than I’ve ever heard from you, Lockjaw!” He exclaimed, grinning, and the look on Lockjaw’s face would have told Charger to shut up even without the accompanying middle finger.

Ezra snorted. “Well, now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way, how’d you like to start this off?”

“We should start by telling you our areas of expertise,” Charger supplied. “Obviously, I’m a jack-of-all-trades, good with a rifle, not bad with explosives, can hold my own in hand-to-hand combat. Nothing really special.”

“I’m the pilot, but I can handle a sniper rifle in a pinch,” Adenn said dryly, then gestured at Lockjaw, “and he’s our walking armory. Got all the explosives and blasters you could ever need.” Lockjaw nodded.

“I’m heavy artillery,” Scorch said, grinning just a touch too maniacally. “I’ve got a really big gun.”

“It’s a cannon,” the kid supplied, and Scorch threw him a withering look. “And I’m like Charger, only with a focus on marksmanship and I’m… still training in hand-to-hand.”

Ezra grinned. “Well, I happen to know someone who can beat ARC troopers, so if you ever want to learn…”

Charger raised an eyebrow. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Hand-to-hand isn’t really emphasized on Kamino, but it can be useful when we’re facing enemies that aren’t droids. Plus, I think you could use the outlet.”

At the reminder that Obi-Wan was supposed to be dead and he was supposed to be mourning, he tightened his jaw and sharpened his smile just a touch. He caught the kid gulping, and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m under orders to take it easy.”

Two rounds of combat later and he was pretty sure he wasn’t really taking it easy. Scorch had been tough, mostly because he wasn't afraid to fight dirty. Charger had taken having his  _ shebs  _ handed to him relatively well, but he’d demanded Ezra show him one of the moves he’d used, which had left Ezra trying to reenact it in slow-motion.

The next fight was probably going to be easier, just based on how the kid’s opening stance looked. His feet were at odd angles, and entirely too close together.

“Okay, here,” Ezra said, nudging the kid’s left foot back a few inches and forcing him to rotate it. “Better?”

The kid nodded and brought up his fists again as Ezra went back to the opposite side of the mat. For a few tense seconds they stood there, waiting for the other to move, then the kid took a step forward.

That was all Ezra needed. He leapt across the distance, bringing his foot down on the kid’s shoulder, making him stumble back a few steps. Ezra pressed the advantage, throwing a series of quick strikes and swipes at the kid.

It only took a few seconds for the kid to recover, and when he did, he grabbed both of Ezra’s wrists as they came in for separate blows and kicked Ezra square in the chest, knocking him back.

Ezra went with the momentum, flipping back onto his shoulders before springing up again to land on the kid’s shoulders and knock him onto the ground. He rolled away, sliding into a crouch and flipping his hair out of his eyes so he could see the kid pushing himself up to his feet. He was obviously winded, but he brought his fists up again anyway.

_ Good job, kid, _ he thought before charging at the kid, whose eyes widened in fear right before Ezra hit the floor and slid to knock the kid’s feet out from under him. As the kid fell onto him, Ezra tucked his knees up to his chin and kicked, sending the kid flying over his head to land with an audible  _ oomph  _ at the feet of the rest of their squad, who all winced in sympathy.

This time, Ezra didn’t wait for the kid to get up before charging. If he had, he would have seen Charger scrambling for something to use as a weapon before coming up with a moderately heavy black object that he swung right as Ezra got within arm’s reach of him.

The object smacked Ezra right across the face, sending him sprawling, and for a minute he just lay there, staring at the kid who was clutching the blaster rifle in both hands and looking at him with a horrified expression. Ezra couldn’t help it—he laughed. A full-on, throw-his-head-back, laugh that made his head throb slightly where he’d been hit.

“Oh, kriff, sir, I am so sorry, I didn’t think—”

Ezra cut him off with a raised hand and another round of laughter. “Your face—” He managed to get out around the laughter, “your face was so good!”

At that, Charger and Scorch both chuckled in agreement before Charger took the blaster rifle from the kid and hurried over to offer Ezra a hand up. Ezra took it, trying to stop laughing. Wiping his face with the sleeve of his blacks, being sure to get his eyes which had watered both from the hit and from laughing so hard, he sighed and sniffed. The hit had hurt, even if he had laughed it off.

“Not bad, kid,” he said, giving him a reassuring smile. “Though it would probably be a good idea for me to go see Kix. Again.”

The kid went wide-eyed. Next to him, Charger raised an eyebrow. “You’re voluntarily going to the medbay? Damn, it must be worse than I thought.”

Ezra shoved him good-naturedly and patted the kid’s shoulder as he passed. “Seriously, kid, it’s not that bad. But if I don’t go see Kix now, I’ll get an earful later and probably be confined to the medbay again. It’s not that bad. In fact, that was actually pretty smart, using a blaster rifle as a club.”

Grabbing a towel—and an icepack that Lockjaw was holding out for him—Ezra turned to see the kid staring into space, looking shocked. As he sat, he raised an eyebrow. “You okay, kid?”

He blinked and nodded, still looking slightly dazed. “Yes, sir—er, Ezra. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for checking on you,” Ezra told him, ignoring how Scorch was sniggering in the background.

“No, sir, I meant, thank you for my name,” the kid said almost timidly, and both Ezra’s eyebrows shot up.

“Your name?”

The kid nodded. “Club, sir. I’m Club.”

Beaming, Ezra stood and stretched out his hand to shake Club’s. “Nice to meet you, Club. Welcome to the team.”

________

Charger was a bit nervous when Cody pulled him aside after their training session, leading him to a small armory off of one of the quieter halls. The fact that Cody knew the  _ Resolute  _ well enough to know which areas of the ship were the quietest was slightly amusing and more than a bit curious. How often did Cody need a quiet spot on the  _ Resolute? _ Oh… probably very often just to avoid having a stress-induced heart attack every time General Skywalker came up with a crazy scheme and General Kenobi agreed with it.

Cody crossed his arms and leaned back against a stack of crates, which were marked  _ thermal detonators. Do not stand, sit, or lean on. _ “How’s the kid?”

“Ezra?” Charger asked, just to make sure, and Cody nodded. “Surprisingly okay. He’s either very firmly in denial or he’s moved right to acceptance, although the latter seems highly unlikely.”

Cody shook his head. “He’s not in denial, I could see that just from the funeral, so…”

“So what is going on with him?” Charger finished for him. “Unfortunately, there’s no way of knowing without asking him, and I doubt we’ll get a straight answer.”

Sighing, Cody massaged his forehead and muttered something about the Jedi. Charger didn’t quite catch what he said, but he guessed it wasn’t complimentary. “How are you holding up, sir?” He asked, and Cody shrugged.

“I’ll be alright… as soon as I know who our new general’s going to be. They’ve got to assign someone, but with our luck we’ll either end up with some shiny or someone who’s General Kenobi’s polar opposite.”

“Any chance we get a general we already know?”

Cody shrugged again. “A small one. I’ve submitted a few names for consideration, but I don’t know if they’ll even look at them.”

“Who did you put?” Charger asked, genuinely curious. He guessed General Skywalker and probably General Koon, although he knew they were not very likely to get command of the battalion as they already had battalions of their own.

“Generals Skywalker, Koon, and Secura, and Lieutenant Jarrus.”

Charger nearly choked in surprise. “You put Lieutenant Jarrus in?” At Cody’s raised eyebrow, he added hurriedly, “Not that I don’t think he could do it, it’s just… that’s a bit of a jump, you know? And typically only Jedi Knights or Masters get the rank of general, and Ezra barely qualifies as a Padawan.”

“But we both agree that it’d be better to have someone we know than someone we don’t. We can work with Jarrus, he knows what he’s doing, and he knows how we operate. The one thing we might struggle with is adjusting to the way he operates,” Cody explained, and Charger sighed.

He understood, he really did, and a big part of him wanted it to be Ezra who took over the 212th. But another part of him was screaming that Ezra hadn’t even begun to process General Kenobi’s death; thrusting that kind of responsibility on him would only end badly.

“He’s taking it too well,” he said quietly, and Cody leaned forward ever-so-slightly.

“What was that?”

“Ezra. He’s taking Kenobi’s death too well… like it’s unimportant.”

Cody frowned, a faraway look in his eye. “I know what you mean… What do you think’s going on?”

With a shrug, Charger sat down on a crate. “Dunno, and I don’t like it. But something tells me he knows something we don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gonna get a small appearance from my second-favorite Clone Wars survivor in the next chapter, which will be up in two weeks. So you have that to look forward to :D


	16. ‘Till You Reach the Other Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, boy. This chapter is a bit of a doozy. It ended up being twice as long as I'd thought it would, and there was no good cutting off point prior to where I did it, so yay, you guys get a longer chapter than normal. Enjoy!

Obi-Wan commed Ezra two weeks later, giving him the okay to start spreading the word that he was actually alive. Since he was the highest ranking person in the know onboard the _Resolute_ , it made sense to give that task to him. Ahsoka and Anakin were on Naboo with Obi-Wan, and a part of Ezra was jealous because he’d heard how beautiful that planet was. The other part was glad he wasn't having to spend more time around Darth Hideous.

The door to ‘his’ bunk chimed and, without looking up from the datapad Ashla had left him, Ezra called, “Come in!”

The door slid open and Cody, Charger, and Rex all walked in. Cody raised an eyebrow at Ezra, probably disapproving of the way he was splayed out on the bunk. Ezra shot him a sheepish look and sat up, gesturing at the desk chair and the end of the bed for them to sit. Rex claimed the chair, and Charger threw himself down on the foot of the bed. Cody just stood in the middle of the room, crossing his arms as he watched Ezra carefully.

Rex leaned forward on the chair. “Everything alright, Ezra?”

Ezra nodded, pursing his lips as he tried to decide how to break the news to them. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ve just, uh, I’ve got news.” At their raised eyebrows, he sighed. “So, first things first. I’ve kind of been keeping a secret—me, Anakin and Ahsoka all have. But it was to help protect someone, so please don’t be mad.”

Charger sucked in a breath. “It’s General Kenobi, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ezra said, trying not to grimace at the shock that spread across Rex’s and Cody’s faces. “The ‘death’ was staged, although Ahsoka and I didn’t know that until after the fact. He had to… well, I haven’t seen an official debrief, but the short version is that he went undercover as Rako Hardeen, the bounty hunter that shot him.”

Cody shut his eyes and seemed to take several deep breaths. “That complete and utter… of all the Jedi, why did it have to be Kenobi?”

Ezra honestly wasn’t sure if he meant ‘why did it have to be Kenobi that went undercover?’ or ‘why did it have to be Kenobi that I was assigned to?’ but either way, his answer was just a sympathetic smile.

“I knew something was up,” Charger said, and Ezra looked over at him, surprised. “You were too okay after the fact, and I knew you should have been all torn up about it.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, Ezra thought. That was, after all, part of the reason Obi-Wan hadn’t told him beforehand. He was good at not talking about stuff, but terrible about acting a lie.

Rex was massaging the bridge of his nose. “Jarrus, I thought we agreed—”

“It wasn’t my idea, Obi-Wan made me promise!” Ezra protested. “Besides, I am literally telling you as soon as I got the okay. I’m not trying to hide things from you!”

Raising his hands in a ‘slow down’ gesture, Rex sat up straight. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone after you like that. It’s just…”

“I know, I have a bad track record.”

“So what was he doing?” Charger asked.

“Saving the Chancellor’s life. There was a plot involving bounty hunters, and the Council, in their eternal wisdom, decided to send one of their own undercover without considering whether or not it was safe or sane, or even if he wanted to go.” Ezra explained, leaning back against the wall.

“He didn’t agree?” Cody sounded outraged, and a part of Ezra felt gratified that someone else thought that was as wrong as he did. “Why the bloody hell—he’s on the Council! Why didn’t they listen to him?”

Ezra shrugged, but it was Rex who answered. “They saw a threat and decided to do what it took to take care of it. But you’re right, Codes, that definitely isn’t how we should be doing things. I’m just glad Obi-Wan had the decency to tell someone before he went in.”

Nodding, Ezra looked over at Charger, who was watching them all with careful eyes. “Hey, I’ve heard what the others think about this. What about you?”

“To be honest, kid,” Charger said, sounding relieved, “I’m just glad that we’re getting our general back. I wouldn’t want to try to explain how you operate to anyone new.”

With a soft snort, Ezra looked down at his hands before sighing and glancing back up. Now the part he was looking forward to far less. “Rex, if you want, you can go tell the rest of the crew. I need to talk to Charger and Cody.”

Rex raised an eyebrow. “About?” Ezra shot him a long-suffering look, and he raised an eyebrow. Ezra responded with a grim nod and he sighed, standing. “Alright, then. I will leave you to that.”

With that, he walked out, leaving Ezra to awkwardly sit while the two remaining clones looked at him in confusion. “Sit, Cody. This is gonna be a long conversation.”

Cody did so reluctantly, looking wary. Charger, on the other hand, looked intrigued, and Ezra sighed. He had never really had a choice when telling the others, so now he had no idea how to start the conversation in any way that sounded sane.

“Okay, so, what I’m about to tell you is kind of unbelievable, but I swear it’s the truth. If you want, I can have Kix show you the proof later, but until then you’ll just have to trust me,” he said in a rush.

Cody narrowed his eyes. “Okay… what is it?”

Ezra sucked in a breath, then blurted, “I’m from the future.”

Cody’s only response was to blink. Charger however, gave a short chuckle, then stopped and stared at Ezra for a second. “Are you high?” He asked, and Ezra groaned, flopping back on the bed dramatically.

“I wish. That would make this conversation a whole lot easier.”

“I don’t know whether to be more concerned that you’ve been high before, or that you actually believe you’ve time traveled.” Cody didn’t sound in the least bit amused, and he crossed his arms to show just how little he appreciated Ezra’s ‘joke.’

Ezra reluctantly sat up again. “I don’t just believe it, I know it. Like I said, Kix has proof, and he, Rex, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan all know and believe me. That’s not even mentioning the fact that I’m not the only one who came back from the future.”

Charger leaned forward, frowning. “Who else? And did you come back in time physically, or do you just remember the future?”

“My aunt,” Ezra said, “And it’s the first one. I’m not going to be born for almost another two months.”

Cody nodded slowly, still looking like he didn’t know whether or not to believe him. “And you’ve been…”

“Changing things for the better, yeah.” Ezra hoped that meant something to Cody, because as much as he wanted it to be true, he really wasn’t sure what he could point to and say that happened better this time because of him. He knew what Ashla had been doing, what she had changed, but the chips? The decrease in needed supplies in Rim worlds? The slowly increasing morale? None of those had been his doing. He knew from Rex that morale had been at an all-time low at this point in the war, that the Rim worlds had never stopped needing supplies, and that the vast majority of the chips had never been removed.

Still, he’d forged a connection with Anakin and his support system, so hopefully he had enough influence to keep Anakin from Falling. That meant he had done something that changed things for the better.

Charger’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Who’s your aunt? I mean, I take it you’ve met her since you got back here.”

“I have, and she was blending in with the other Togrutas right after Kadavo.” Ezra answered reluctantly. He knew that telling them that Ahsoka was his aunt would totally tell them who his biological parents were, and that was going to be ridiculously uncomfortable, but it needed to be done.

Cody raised an eyebrow. “Your aunt’s a Togruta?”

“And my mom’s a Twi’lek. Your point?” Ezra asked sarcastically.

Charger slowly nodded, a distant look in his eye before he suddenly lit up in understanding. “Oh, kriff. Are you—? You are, aren’t you?”

Well, he’d figured it out fast. Grimacing, Ezra nodded, and Charger whooped, turning to Cody. “In your face, Commander!” He exclaimed before seemingly realizing that he was, in fact, talking to a commanding officer.

Surprised, Ezra looked over at Cody, who sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. “Alright, I guess we lose that bet.”

“What bet?” Ezra asked, aware that a note of hysteria was leaking into his voice, but seriously? They’d made a bet in this? Who all had been in on this bet?

Cody sighed again. “There was a bet, made just after you got your commission, between the 501st and the 212th. The 212th thought you were from some distant sector of the Rim, and had been fighting a criminal empire there. The 501st, of Fives' recommendation, bet you were from the future and were there to get to know your biological family.”

“And since your biological family is Anakin Skywalker, the 501st wins the bet,” Charger explained, grinning.

“But you’re part of the 212th…?” Ezra shook his head, deciding it really didn’t matter. What mattered was that he’d put it together. “And, yeah, that is… _sort of…_ the reason I came back.”

“What’s the real reason?” Cody asked.

“I need to stop Anakin from Falling to the Dark Side.”

“Oh,” both clones said at once, the excitement on Charger’s face dying in an instant. Cody looked down at the floor. “That would break our general’s heart.”

Ezra sighed, remembering the old man he’d met on Tatooine. “I think it did.”

“So, Padme raised you?” Charger asked, and Ezra shook his head.

“No, she died giving birth to me. I was raised by an adoptive family until I was seven, then I lived on the streets for seven more years—those were rough, it’s honestly a miracle I survived as long as I did—then I met my second adoptive family.”

Cody sighed. “Damn. That’s a lot for a kid to go through.”

“I survived.”

“Thank the Force for that.”

After a moment, Charger sighed. “This is just… It’s a lot, you know?”

“Oh, trust me,” Ezra said wryly. “I know exactly how much this all is, and unfortunately, if you want all the info—and something tells me you do—we’re gonna be here a while.”

Charger and Cody exchanged looks, then looked back at Ezra. Charger nodded. “Spill.”

_______ 

Cal had been on Star Destroyers before. Hell, he’d spent the last couple of months on one, but for some reason this one seemed vastly more intimidating. Maybe it was bigger? No, Cal reminded himself, the dimensions were the same. The only thing that was different was that this ship was home to the 501st legion, and their general, the Hero With No Fear.

As if sensing Cal’s excitement, Master Tapal smiled down at him. “Steady there, little one. He’s only another Jedi, and he was once a young Padawan like you. I’m sure he won’t be intimidating in the slightest.”

Cal nodded quickly, but it was hard to wrap his head around it all. They were teaming up with Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano—unfortunately Master Kenobi was still on Coruscant, recovering from the undercover mission to save the Chancellor, or else Cal would have been able to meet him again. He’d taught a class that Cal and some of his friends had attended, and Cal desperately wanted to ask him more questions.

Bouncing on his heels as the lift rose, Cal asked, “D’you think I’ll actually be able to tag along on this one?” Master Tapal had a habit of not letting Cal help with ground assaults if he deemed them too dangerous, but Cal really wanted to fight alongside his heroes.

“Hmm. I don’t know,” Master Tapal said, giving Cal a sympathetic look. “At the moment, the surface of Saleucami is covered with Separatist forces, looking for resources and a foothold in this sector. Depending on General Skywalker’s plan, it may be better for you to stay on the _Resolute_ and help coordinate our forces.”

Cal sighed. ‘Coordinate our forces’ basically just meant watch the map on the holotable and let them know if he had a bad feeling. Not the most interesting or educational experience.

The doors to the lift slid open, and Cal and Master Tapal stepped out onto the command deck, where General Skywalker and Commander Tano were standing around the holotable with a man that Cal recognized as an admiral and a clone who, if Cal was reading his armor correctly, was the 501st’s captain.

“Master Tapal,” Skywalker said in greeting, nodding respectfully. “And this would be your Padawan?”

Master Tapal nodded, putting a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “Go on, young one, introduce yourself.”

Bowing, Cal shuffled awkwardly. “Padawan Cal Kestis, sir. It’s an honor.”

Skywalker raised an eyebrow and looked over at Commander Tano. “Hear that, Snips? An honor.” As she rolled her eyes, he looked back at Cal, whose cheeks were blazing. He shouldn’t have said that—Force, now he probably thought Cal was some kind of starstruck fanboy. Instead of embarrassing Cal further, though, Skywalker smiled gently at him. “Please, just call me Anakin. You don’t need to call me sir.”

“Um, okay?” Cal looked back up at his Master to make sure that was okay, only to find him grinning fondly down at him.

“Good,” Skywalker—Anakin—said, clapping his hands together. “This is Admiral Yularen, Captain Rex, and my Padawan, Ahsoka Tano.”

Ahsoka grinned at him and waved, looking excited. Cal nodded eagerly, committing the two names he didn’t know to memory. There was no way he was embarrassing himself again by forgetting something as simple as someone’s name.

“What is the status of the campaign?” Master Tapal asked, and just like that, the atmosphere of the room turned serious.

Anakin sighed and looked down at the holomap. “Not great. Doable, but not great. The Separatists have two different encampments, here and here,” he pointed to two spots on the map, a few kilometers apart, “and a small fleet in orbit. Whatever foothold they think they’re going to find, it’s important they don’t get it.”

“So, we need at least two coordinated strikes to deal with the clankers’ bases,” Captain Rex put in, and Cal nodded, hoping to look smart enough to know why they needed a coordinated strike rather than just take them one at a time.

Thankfully, Master Tapal seemed to understand his confusion. “Of course. We need to make sure they aren’t going to be able to send reinforcements from one base to the other and catch us in a pincer move.”

This time, Cal understood, and nodded. “But what about the fleet?” He asked. “Won’t they be able to send reinforcements, too?”

“We’ll work on that,” Anakin assured him, “but first we need to focus on the ground assault. And besides, I want the second base to send reinforcements to the first.”

“Why?” Ahsoka asked.

“Because if they send reinforcements from—let’s call this Base One,” Anakin pointed to one of the two bases, “to Base Two, there’ll be fewer droids in Base One, making it easier to capture. Then, as reinforcements are making their way to Base Two, we have Gold Squadron make a bombing run to take care of them.

“Now, Base Two is already almost three times the size of Base One, so I want a two-pronged assault on that base. Master Tapal, would you lead one of those prongs?”

Master Tapal nodded, and looked down at Cal with a pointed look. Cal slumped slightly. That meant he wasn’t going with him to the surface and would instead be up here, waiting uselessly.

“Great,” Anakin continued, unaware of the silent conversation that had occurred. “I’ll take the other. Snips, I want you to lead the assault on Base One. You can take Rex.”

Ahsoka grinned at the clone, whose resigned sigh was at complete odds with the smile on his face. “Ten credits say I get more droids than you, Rexster!”

“Now that we’ve got that hammered out, perhaps we should give the young Padawan’s concern some thought?” Admiral Yularen said pointedly, and Ahsoka dropped the grin, clearly trying to give off a professional air that was at complete odds with the excitement rolling off of her in waves. Cal found himself grinning. He knew he wasn’t going to be fighting, but it would still be super cool to watch.

Master Tapal sighed heavily, clasping his hands behind his back. “The plan for the ground assault relies completely on no reinforcements making it down to the surface. We need someone up here to lead your fighters.”

Anakin grimaced. “Normally I’d volunteer in a heartbeat, but I’ll be needed on the ground.”

“Hey, Master,” Ahsoka said after a second, “does piloting count as light duty? Because we’ve got someone who’s good in a fighter and has experience leading a squadron of fighters in battle, but he’s only been cleared for light duty.”

The only word Cal could find to describe the look on Anakin’s face was sly. “Oh, yeah, Kix is gonna love this.” Activating his comm, Anakin said in a slightly louder voice, “Lieutenant Jarrus, report to the bridge immediately.”

That was an odd name for a clone. Odder still for a clone to be on light duty on board a Star Destroyer. Cal looked up at his Master, confused, but Master Tapal just squeezed his shoulder and asked, “What will be the signal for Commander Tano’s assault team to move?”

“I’d think it would be when all the clankers go running to the other base,” Captain Rex answered, a wry smile on his face, and Master Tapal smiled.

“I assume you’ll also be signaling for the bombing run to begin?” He asked Ahsoka, who nodded.

Just then, the lift opened and a young man—probably only five or six years older than Cal, actually, but he seemed older—stepped out. He wore the strangest combination of civies and armor Cal had ever seen: blacks with an orange tunic over them, coupled with blue-painted pauldrons and greaves. His belt was leather, and had a blaster pistol that was definitely not regulation standard. His dark blue hair hung past his jaw, some of it pulled behind his head in a little ponytail.

But it was what hung off his belt that snagged Cal’s attention. It looked like just a couple of spare parts, a long cylinder that lay against his back and a smaller piece that hung off his waist, but it called to him in a way that he could only describe as familiar.

Glancing up at the older boy’s face, Cal was surprised to see a flood of emotions pass over his face as his eyes locked onto Master Tapal. Cal thought he saw shock, joy, confusion, realization, and then grief before a polite mask dropped down on his face.

“You called for me, General Skywalker?” He asked, and Cal realized this must be Lieutenant Jarrus.

“Ezra, how does leading a squadron of fighters sound to you?” Anakin sounded like he already knew the answer.

“Like something I’ve been wanting to do for nearly a month,” the older boy—Ezra—said with a grin as he came to stand beside Cal. “Has Kix cleared me for this?”

Ahsoka snorted. “Do you think he’s even been asked?”

“Oh, he’s gonna kill you,” Ezra said, but he was still grinning so Cal figured that wasn’t going to change his answer.

“He’ll get over it,” Anakin reassured him, then gestured across the table. “This is Jedi Master Jaro Tapal and his Padawan, Cal Kestis. Master Tapal, Padawan Kestis, this is Lieutenant Ezra Jarrus. He’s on loan from the 212th while recovering from being wounded in action on Kadavo.”

Cal looked over at Ezra, suddenly awed. Wounded in action sounded so heroic.

Almost as if sensing Cal’s thoughts, Ezra laughed and tousled Cal’s hair, making Cal brush it back into place with a small hint of annoyance. “Nothing near as heroic as you’re imagining, squirt.” Looking up at Master Tapal, Ezra asked, “He’s staying here, right?”

Tapal nodded. “As much as I trust my Padawan and appreciate his enthusiasm, this battlefield will be no place for him.”

Cal scowled. He didn’t like being treated like a baby. He was thirteen years old! He could handle a battlefield. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two pieces of _something_ on Ezra’s belt again and he had to fight to keep his hands at his sides.

Ezra just nodded grimly. “Good.” He turned back to Anakin. “When are we moving out?”

“You’ll get the signal to start the assault as soon as we leave,” Anakin assured him. “In the meantime, why don’t you go get my fighter ready?”

Ezra looked confused for a second, then realization dawned on his face. “Oh my stars, you’re letting me take your fighter?”

“Yup. Now go before I change my mind.”

Ezra turned to face the door, and Cal couldn’t help it. He reached out and brushed the long cylinder with his fingertips, only immediately to stumble back under the wave of pain and grief that hit him. It lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like longer than that.

Gasping, Cal straightened, trying to erase the images from behind his eyes. Everyone on the bridge was watching him in concern, Master Tapal kneeling next to him with concern visible in his eyes. With a small tremble in his voice, Cal looked up at Ezra, who’d taken a half-step towards him while he’d been preoccupied with the Echo he’d sensed. “I’m sorry.”

Ezra frowned. “About what?”

“About Caleb.”

Ezra’s reaction was instantaneous. He stiffened, a stony mask falling into place with the light in his eyes suddenly vanishing. His only hint of emotion was a sharp, pained inhale, then he threw Anakin and Ahsoka a salute, turned on his heel, and marched into the lift.

Master Tapal looked in the direction Ezra had gone, frowning. “Who is Caleb?”

Cal shrugged shakily. Behind him, Anakin, Ahsoka, and Captain Rex all looked confused as well. Cal’s immediate thought was his friend Caleb Dume, but as far as he knew, Caleb was fine. He hadn’t been caught in an explosion. Cal was pretty sure he’d feel it if something like that happened. All he could do was stare vacantly where Ezra had gone and pray that he hadn’t distracted him to the point where he wouldn’t be able to fly.

_______ 

Ezra blew out another steadying breath as he hopped into the pilot’s seat of Anakin’s Delta-7. He’d mostly managed to get the hurricane of emotions _that name_ had summoned under control, but it had taken all he had on the bridge not to tear up. A year and a half on and he still wasn’t over it. He knew that he’d never really be ‘over it,’ but at some point he’d like to be able to talk about him without wanting to cry.

Artoo chirped at him from his socket and Ezra nodded. “Alright, little guy, let’s see what this thing can do.” Taking a look around the cockpit, he familiarized himself with the controls and messed around with some of the settings so that it fit someone of his stature a bit better. He’d gained one last inch or two, but he still wasn’t anywhere near as tall as Anakin, so the seat needed to be a bit higher, and the yolk a bit closer, but otherwise, the set-up was fine. Impressive, even. He couldn’t wait to actually fire it up.

In the hanger opposite him, he could see Anakin and Ahsoka boarding separate LAATis, followed by Master Tapal. He tried hard not to stare, but the differences between Jaro Tapal and Zeb weren’t enough that he didn’t automatically think of the latter when he saw the former. It had been a shock when he’d first walked onto the command deck. Thankfully, he’d recovered quickly enough that he was pretty sure no one had seen his initial reaction. He really didn't want to have to explain it.

His comm and the comms of all the fighters around him chimed in unison. Anakin announced in a loud voice, _“Shadows Five through Eight, you’ll be our escort down to the planet’s surface. You’ll need to keep their fighters off of us. The rest of you need to keep the fleet so busy they won’t have time to send reinforcements.”_

“We know, General,” Era reassured him. “We’ll make sure to keep them occupied.”

A chorus of agreement rang out from the rest of the pilots, nearly deafening Ezra. With a wince and a smile, he shook his head and started up the engines. All around him, the other pilots did the same, and as the LAATis left the hanger, a small fleet of fighters and bombers followed behind.

The _Aethersprite_ handled better than Ezra could have imagined. The yoke was highly sensitive, but he found that if he relaxed into the Force a little bit, it was more than manageable. With a steadying exhale, he pushed the ship forward, zooming to the front of the formation as Shadows Five, Six, Seven, and Eight all broke off to escort the flotilla of troop transports heading toward the surface of the planet.

Ezra looked out the cockpit and almost swore. He knew they’d be going up against one _Providence-_ class dreadnought and three _Munificent-_ class frigates, but he hadn’t been expecting the shower of icy meteors plummeting into Saleucami’s upper atmosphere—right where the Separatist fleet was gathered. Add to that the smaller ships—a few cargo vessels and a few vulture droids he spotted chasing what looked like a freighter from this distance—and he knew this was gonna be a rough one.

“All wings, report in,” he called over the comm, and as the rest of Shadow squadron and all of Gold squadron checked in, he looked over the controls and readouts one last time to make sure he knew where everything was. As soon as the last wing reported in, he readjusted his position on the cockpit seat and narrowed his focus to what was going on in the viewport. “We’re heading for the dreadnought first. Gold squadron, focus your attacks on the bridge, Shadows Two, Three and Four focus on the shield generators. The rest of us, we’re going after the vulture droids as soon as they deploy.”

_“Yes, sir!”_ Echoed through the comm, and Ezra grinned. This was gonna be fun.

Coming around at a wide angle so that he was between the planet and the fleet, Ezra quickly targeted the swarm of vulture droids spilling into space. With most of the boys following his lead, most of the droids were coming his way, but a fair number of them split off towards the _Resolute._

“Shadows Nine and Ten, take care of the ones heading for the _Resolute,_ the rest of you, let’s take down the fleet!” He barked, before throwing himself to the side in a barrel-roll to avoid colliding with a droid.

Weaving in and out of the ice field, Ezra opened fire on the approaching droids, catching a lot of them in an indiscriminate beam of destruction. Zooming forward, he locked onto one of the frigates and unleashed a hail of blasterbolts at the bridge.

Their shields held, unfortunately, but the Force nudged his attention to a spot on the backside of the ship and he fired. The pilots behind him followed suit, and their shields went down. Ezra swooped beneath the ship, neatly spinning so that he was flying parallel to the bigger vessel.

Spotting the weakness, a couple of his men followed through with his original plan off attack. One of them was hit and went down, but the other managed to hit the bridge, coming away from the ensuing explosion with smoke trailing from the engines.

It couldn’t have been that easy, could it? No, the bridge had exploded, but the ship’s canons were still firing. Over the comm, Ezra heard Gold squadron asking for backup and he swooped over and around the now crippled frigate to head to the dreadnought.

Most of the rest of his pilots were harrying the hundred or so vulture droids left, but most of the droids were focusing on the bombers instead of the fighters, and that could spell disaster.

“Shadow squadron, get in formation around Gold squadron. The priority is to protect them from the smaller ships so they can take down the bigger ships. Focus fire on turrets and droids alike.” He barked out, and quickly zipped over the top of the dreadnought, one of the fighters—Shadow Twelve, he thought—on his wing.

He braced himself as they both opened fire on the turrets. Ezra’s wingman swerved before he could ram into the central column, but Ezra locked onto the column with the Force and used it to throw himself into a tight turn around the column.

Making another run over the top of the dreadnought, he was gratified to see the bombers coming around for their own run with a group of fighters around them blasting away the vulture droids that were constantly zipping around the group. Some of the fighters were trailing smoke, but none looked critically damaged.

Quickly, Ezra swooped around, falling into the front of the formation and blasting away a half dozen vulture droids about to run right into them. His wingman fell in behind him, and Ezra grinned as the second bombing run commenced and the bombers dropped their payload. Half the dreadnought went up in flames as they pulled away.

Ezra’s comm chirped at that moment, and he barely glanced at the readout before cursing. “Gold squadron, head down to the surface, keep the reinforcements from reaching Base Two.”

_“Copy that, Lieutenant,”_ Gold Leader responded, and the bombers pealed away.

“All fighter, focus fire on the dreadnought, it’s almost down. Target the engines!” Ezra called out, and immediately the squad swung around to once again face the dreadnought.

A hail of fire was still coming from the three frigates, and without needing to be told, almost half the pack split off to take care of that. Ezra was tempted to follow, but he knew he needed to stay with the majority of his men. Zipping through the chunks of ice, they locked on to the dreadnought’s engines before quickly shifting their fire to the oncoming cloud of vulture droids.

The droids unleashed a payload of buzz droids, and immediately Ezra called out, “Pull up!”

Most of the pilots followed his order in time, but his wingman got caught by a buzz droid. Ezra swerved around, biting back a cry as he was nearly slammed into the cockpit walls by inertia. Quickly swooping forward, he knocked the buzz droid off with the hull of his ship, narrowly missing the other fighter’s cockpit window.

_“Cutting it a bit close there, Commander,”_ the pilot said, and Ezra rolled his eyes.

“Cut the chatter, Adenn,” he shot back and quickly rejoined the rest of his fighters, who were regrouping to target the dreadnought. This time, they made it through the field of meteors and vulture droids and opened fire on the dreadnought as it drew ever closer.

Their shots scored hits and left the engines smoking but operational, and Ezra swung around, intent on going after them again, but a shot from behind made him quickly redirect his course. He charged into the ice field, swerving around the meteors at breakneck speed, using every trick in his arsenal to get his attackers to crash. For the most part it worked, but there was one stubborn vulture droid that managed to keep on his tail the whole while.

With a curse, he swung around and headed back to the main dogfight, where two of the frigates were now disabled and the dreadnought was listing dangerously to the side. Blasterfire flashed across his field of vision and Ezra zipped forward, putting his pursuer right in front of another vulture droid. The two collided in a spectacular crash of fire and metal.

Over the comm, he could vaguely hear the rest of the pilots and Admiral Yularen chatting, but he was tuning all of them out. He needed to concentrate on not getting killed and on the Force, because it was telling him where to go. He unleashed one last barrage on the dreadnought and it exploded.

They were down to a dozen or so vulture droids and one frigate, which was smoking and trying to limp away. Simultaneously, Ezra and his remaining pilots—it looked like they were missing maybe five out of the twenty or so that originally left the _Resolute—_ targeted the frigate, some zipping around to target the hyperdrive, while Ezra led the rest around to destroy as much of the ship as possible.

Blasterfire from behind them made Ezra curse, earning himself several remarks of, _“Language, Commander,”_ from the rest of the boys. With a roll of his eyes, he threw the engines into full reverse, ending up behind the three vulture droids that were harrying them. He opened fire and brought all three crashing down into the frigate within seconds of each other.

The rest of the men finished their run, leaving swathes of the ship on fire and in pieces. The ship was now heading straight for a meteor, with no sign they were going to slow or stop.

“All wings, pull back, we’ve got ‘em,” Ezra called over the comm, quickly moving away from the ship and putting some distance between it and him before it hit the meteor and caved in, finally exploding when the meteor was about halfway into the ship.

Cheers rang out as the last couple of vulture droids were destroyed, and Ezra grinned as he spotted Gold squadron coming up from the planet, and was relieved to hear Admiral Yularen announce, _“Commander Tano has secured Base One, and Generals Tapal and Skywalker are clearing Base Two.”_

“Copy that, Admiral. C’mon, boys, let’s go home.” His reply was met with raucous cheers.

_______ 

Obi-Wan arrived in the Saleucami system in time to miss even the clean-up. The operation had been an undeniable success, and while the planet wasn’t secure yet, this victory was a sure step in that direction. If they could keep this momentum going, he had no doubt they could secure the Outer Rim in a matter of months.

Right now, he was heading down to the barracks, where Rex had told him Cody, Ezra, and Ezra’s men were. He’d already seen Master Tapal and Anakin, privately giving the latter a hug and telling him how proud he was of how well he’d done. Casualties, after all, had been minimal, both on the ground and in the air.

Speaking of in the air, he really wanted to see Ezra’s piloting skills for himself. According to Master Tapal, his Padawan had been in awe of Ezra when they got back, and it probably had nothing to do with the stories Charger had been telling him while waiting for the others to get back to the _Resolute._ Add to that the fact that he still hadn’t seen what Ezra could do with a ‘saber, and he knew he’d be busy for the next couple of weeks.

He palmed the door to the barracks open. Inside, Padawan Kestis was playing a game of dejarik against Scorch, with Lockjaw, Fives, and Echo spectating. Nearby, Ezra, Cody, and Adenn were all talking, though it looked to be a relatively light-hearted conversation, with Ezra grinning like a tooka and Adenn rolling his eyes. Across from them, Charger and the rookie were painting their helmets.

Cody looked up when the door slid open, and he straightened, relief rolling out of him in waves. “Thank the Force. General, would you please explain to these _di’kute_ that their argument is pointless?”

Ezra and Adenn turned to face him, the former’s face lighting up when he saw Obi-Wan. “Well, look who’s alive!”

“Thank you for your concern,” Obi-Wan said dryly, “now what’s this argument about?”

“I think Adenn needs to train either Lockjaw or Club as a pilot just in case both he and I are incapacitated or unavailable, and he thinks he doesn’t,” Ezra said, crossing his arms.

Adenn scowled. “I’m a perfectly good pilot, and the chances that both of us are too injured to fly are minimal.”

“All it takes is one good blow to the skull and no one will trust you behind the steering yolk,” Ezra shot back.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Obi-Wan sighed. “Cody, would you go make sure everything is ready for our departure?” Cody nodded, looking relieved at being given an out, and Obi-wan turned to the other two. “Alright, Adenn, why don’t you want another pilot on the squad?”

Adenn sighed, deflating ever so slightly. “This squad only needs one pilot.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, understanding what Adenn wasn’t saying. He was only attached unofficially; if another member of the squad could fly, he would become redundant, and Obi-Wan hadn’t missed how attached the pilot had become to the rest of the team. The bonds were nearly tangible in the Force, on a level not even a Force bond could replicate. Adenn didn’t want to train another pilot because he didn’t want to lose that.

With a sigh, he looked over at Ezra. “And why do you want him to?”

“Contingency,” Ezra said simply, “just in case something bad happens. Besides, I’m not the only one who thinks it’d be a good idea.” He sent Obi-Wan a pointed look as he said that, and Obi-wan subtly shifted the hand on his chin so that Ezra could read his lips. ‘Ashla?’ he mouthed, and Ezra nodded minutely.

Obi-Wan gave a firm nod, then turned to Adenn. “I stand with Ezra on this. But Adenn,” he added when the clone slumped, “this does not mean you’re being replaced. You’re a member of this squad.”

“Squads only have five members, and I’m the unofficial sixth… that’s just not done, General,” Adenn said tiredly.

“Actually, the idea that this squad was formed around was to keep him—” Obi-Wan gestured at Ezra, who looked mildly offended “—safe, so if anything, he’s the ‘unofficial sixth.’ This is your squad, Adenn, and training another pilot will not change that. Besides, it would only be in case of emergency. In most situations, they will be relying on your skill.”

Looking mollified, Adenn nodded. “Alright, then, sir, if you think it’s best.”

“Great!” Ezra said brightly, “So, Lockjaw or Club?”

“Why those two?” Adenn asked.

Ezra grimaced. “Well, Charger’s got enough on his plate, and do you really want Scorch piloting?”

Obi-Wan smiled. Despite scoring highest in his batch in tactics, Scorch had a bit of a reputation as a first-in, never-back-down type, and Obi-Wan had no doubt that him piloting would result in him playing chicken with the ground.

Adenn nodded again, looking slightly amused. “Well, I’m already teaching Club how to use a sniper rifle, I think it’d best if I didn’t load another thing to learn on his plate.”

“Lockjaw it is, then,” Obi-Wan said, then turned to Ezra. “Are you all ready to go?”

Ezra nodded. “Goodbyes said and everything. We were just waiting for you.”

Obi-Wan looked over at the pair of clones painting their helmets and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you certainly look ready.”

As if sensing that comment was meant for him, Charger looked up. “Hey Commander, what do you think?” He turned his helmet around to show the new markings he’d added: two parallel lines on the left cheek. The top one was 212th gold, and the bottom one was 501st blue, but was where they were and the angle they were at that told Obi-Wan exactly why Charger had added them.

They were the same as Ezra’s scars.

Obi-Wan glanced over at Ezra, who was visibly blinking back tears. He didn’t know why Ezra was so surprised by the gesture; Charger had made his loyalties very clear, now it was just visible. “I…” Ezra started, but Club flipping his helmet around caught him off guard again, because he had the exact same markings on his helmet.

“We’ll need to take some of the blue paint with us so the others can do theirs,” Club said shyly. “That is, if it’s okay? If not, we can paint over it or scrub it off or something—”

He was cut off by Ezra tackling both him and Charger in a hug. It looked a bit uncomfortable, with Ezra crouching and the other two sitting, but with the way Ezra was clinging on, Obi-Wan guessed that wouldn’t stop this hug from lasting a while.

“Oh, are we doing a group hug?” Scorch called over from the dejarik table, and Ezra snorted wetly before stepping away, wiping suspiciously wet eyes with the sleeve of his blacks. Cal was staring at them with unabashed curiosity, possibly unused to such displays of affection.

With a smile, Obi-Wan shook his head. “Come along, Ezra, we need to get back to the _Negotiator.”_

“Finally,” Ezra said, making Obi-Wan smile. Since Zygerria, neither of them had actually been on the _Negotiator_ much, or, in Ezra’s case, at all. It would be nice to be home.

The clones heard the unspoken order to move out and so began finishing up their activities. Charger and Club bagged the paint and Charger hoisted it over his shoulder, while Scorch made one final move and took out Cal’s k’lor’slug, ending the game. Lockjaw huffed a laugh as Scorch picked up his heavy canon, while Cal made a noise of protest, then sighed and stood.

“Hey, Ezra?” Cal asked in a timid voice, and Obi-Wan turned, raising an eyebrow.

Beside him, Ezra turned as well. “Yeah, Cal, what is it?”

Cal shuffled awkwardly. “I wanted to say I’m sorry, again. It was really rude of me. And I wanted to say thanks for the shooting lesson.”

Obi-Wan turned to Ezra, mouthing, ‘shooting lesson?’ and Ezra gave him a look that said he wasn’t sorry. “It’s already forgiven, squirt, and using a blaster is always a handy thing to fall back on if you lose your ‘saber. Or grab a stick and club someone over the face,” he added that last part with a grin aimed at Club, who rolled his eyes and grumbled something about already apologizing.

Cal snickered and nodded, than, as if he was afraid he’d get in trouble for it, gave Ezra a quick hug. Ezra seemed to have anticipated it and returned it immediately, but Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. Noticing, Cal ducked his head, but Obi-Wan wasn’t upset. To make sure Cal knew this, he asked, “What, I don’t get a hug?”

Ezra laughed and leaned over to give him a side hug, one that Obi-Wan leaned into a bit. Now that he’d started to be a bit more free with physical affection, he found that he rather craved it.

Seeing an esteemed Jedi Master getting a hug, Cal looked surprised, and not for the first time Obi-Wan cursed the upbringing the Temple gave its children. They shouldn’t be surprised by affection, affection was supposed to be ready and available for them whenever they wanted it. Anakin in particular, he realized now, had struggled with that. Going from ready touches and gestures from his mother to none at all and being scolded for wanting it was cruel to put anyone through, let alone a ten-year-old boy.

Deciding to give Anakin another hug before they left, Obi-Wan straightened. Ezra understood the silent signal and stopped leaning on him, giving Cal, Fives and Echo one last wave before they headed out.

Anakin met them in the hanger, waiting impatiently by their shuttle. When he saw them, he grinned, looking past Obi-Wan's shoulder at the boys who were roughhousing as they walked.

“All set, then?” He asked as they got closer.

Obi-Wan nodded as the clones filed past him into the shuttle. “I believe so.”

Beside him, Ezra shook his head. “Emotionally? No. I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“Bet you’re not going to miss having to go see Kix every week,” Anakin said with a grin.

Ezra laughed. “I’m not gonna miss the check-ups, but I like Kix. And I’m gonna tell him that you don’t.”

Anakin playfully shoved him, and the two of them laughed. Narrowing his eyes, Obi-Wan watched carefully. He knew the two of them had talked about something a while ago, before he’d had to fake his death, but there was definitely something else that was different now, and, as he watched, he realized the difference was in Anakin. He seemed… lighter, somehow, not in the Force, but like there was less weighing him down, or something buoying him up. Whatever it was, he was glad for it.

“Well, if the two of you are done acting like children,” Obi-Wan finally said, “I do believe we need to go.”

With a sigh, Ezra threw the both of them a cocky two-fingered salute and started toward the shuttle, only to pause and quickly double back to give Anakin a hug. Visibly startled and confused, Anakin didn’t have a chance to return it before Ezra let go and ran into the shuttle. Almost immediately, Obi-Wan could hear him griping with Charger about something, and he shook his head.

“That boy really is something,” he said, stroking his beard.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anakin deflate slightly. “Yeah, he is,” Anakin said in a slightly despondent voice, and Obi-Wan frowned.

Where was this change in behavior coming from? Following Anakin’s eyes, he realized he was looking at Ezra, and he could have kicked himself for not realizing that this was going to happen eventually. Anakin was jealous of Ezra, or that Obi-Wan thought so highly of Ezra.

Well, that wouldn’t do at all.

“I really have been lucky to have a second apprentice who is nearly as exceptional as the first,” he said offhandedly, and Anakin whipped his head around to look at Obi-Wan with astonishment.

“You mean—I mean, I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me,” Obi-Wan said, meeting Anakin’s eyes with as much sincerity in his expression as he could muster. “Both of you are extraordinary people, and I can only hope that one day, Ezra turns out half as well as you have.” As Anakin teared up slightly, Obi-Wan put his hands on his shoulders. “Anakin, I couldn’t be prouder of the Jedi—of the man you’ve become. Ezra is not your replacement, and he never will be, because there is no one who could replace you.”

Anakin looked down at the ground, sniffling slightly, and Obi-Wan pulled him in for a hug. Anakin immediately clung onto him, burying his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan let him, even when he started crying a bit. He actually held on tighter.

How could Anakin not know he was proud of him? It was in every gesture he made, every look he gave him—with a sudden chill, he realized it was never explicit enough in the words he said. Well, if that’s what it took, he’d tell Anakin how proud he was every time he saw him. There was no way he was letting the man who was his brother in every sense but blood carry on without knowing how much he was loved, how proud Obi-Wan was of him.

With one last squeeze, Obi-Wan let go, and offered Anakin a smile. “Do take care, Anakin. As far as I’m aware, we won’t be seeing each other any time soon, and I’d rather like to see you again.”

Anakin nodded, wiping his eyes with his gloved hands. “May the Force be with you, Master.”

“And you as well, my dear Padawan,” he replied, putting as much affection into ‘Padawan’ as he could so that Anakin wouldn’t misinterpret that as a derogatory remark.

He got about halfway to the ship before Anakin called out, “Oh, Obi-Wan?” Turning to face him, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Senator Amidala asked me to remind you to talk to Satine. Apparently she’s still a bit miffed about the whole, faking-your-death thing.” Obi-Wan nodded, and giving Anakin one last smile, he turned and boarded the ship.

As soon as the shuttle left the hanger, Obi-Wan pulled out his holocommunicator and put in Satine’s personal frequency. It rang for a bit before Satine’s image appeared. She looked a bit harried, but even before she met his eyes her expression was relieved.

“Obi-Wan!” She said, surprised, then turned to someone Obi-Wan couldn’t see. “Thank you, Captain. Perhaps we could continue this discussion later?” Whoever she was talking to seemed to agree because Satine smiled and a few seconds later turned back to Obi-Wan. “I’ll admit, I was relieved to here you were alive. However,” she added, raising an eyebrow, “don’t think that excuses wat you put me through.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Grace. Actually, I was calling to apologize for me behavior and the stress it put you through,” Obi-Wan answered, hoping to nip her anger in the bud.

She arched her eyebrow higher. “Oh? Not to tell me of an impending Separatist invasion, or perhaps a plot by the Deathwatch to depose me?”

“No, My Lady, simply to apologize. I value our friendship too much to let something like this happen without a proper explanation.”

“I am aware of the mission that necessitated this deception,” she said, her voice starting to turn cold.

With a heavy sigh, Obi-Wan looked her square in the eye. “Then perhaps you are aware that I was assigned that mission against protest.” Satine’s other eyebrow shot up to join the first. “I did not want to put this stress on my men, my lineage, or my friends. I hope I can still count you among that number?”

Satine sighed, looking down. Obi-Wan held his breath for minute, but eventually she looked up and nodded. “I suppose I can’t fault you for following orders.”

“I actually disobeyed them a bit. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but I told my lineage. My apologies for not including you in that number, it was a risk to my safety to even tell them.”

Satine smiled ever so slightly. “The great Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, disobeying orders? What has this galaxy come to?”

Chuckling, Obi-Wan glanced up and saw that Ezra was smirking at him. Shooting him a quick glare, he sighed. “I suppose I should be going. We’re about to arrive on the _Negotiator.”_

Satine nodded. “Thank you for calling, Master Kenobi. I should go as well, a shipment of supplies has just arrived from Saleucami.”

Obi-Wan smiled and bowed his head deferentially before hanging up. As he tucked the holocommunicator back into his pocket, he caught Ezra still smirking at him, and if he had to guess, most of the squad was as well. “If you are quite ready to act like an adult…” he left the rest of his sentence unsaid as the shuttle pulled into the hanger of the Negotiator.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Ezra said, but his expression said otherwise.

“We’ve been friends for years,” Obi-wan said defensively, and Ezra’s grin broadened.

“I’m sure.”

With a scowl, Obi-Wan turned and left the shuttle. Ezra followed right behind him, bouncing on his toes like an overexcited tooka. Behind them, the squad was disembarking, immediately meeting with their brothers here on board the _Negotiator_ to catch up.

“Out of curiosity,” Ezra asked as they made their way out of the hanger, leaving the clones behind them, “how exactly did the two of you meet?”

Obi-Wan sighed. This was only a slightly safer topic, still painfully close to the topic he knew Ezra was really wanting to talk about. “We met on a mission. Qui-Gon and I were assigned to protect her. The mission lasted well over a year, and it was during that time that we became friends. She still drives me insane every time we talk, though. Never knows when enough is enough.”

Ezra frowned slightly, and Obi-Wan thought he was going to press the issue but instead he asked, “Master Qui-Gon Jinn, right?” Surprised, Obi-Wan nodded, and Ezra added, “I’ve heard the name before.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, not sure what else to say. “Ashla?”

With a soft huff, Ezra shook his head. “No, uh, you, actually. You mentioned it the one time we met. So I was just kind of curious what he was like.”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips, not really sure how to describe the man. “He was a good man. Not a great one, and hardly without his faults, but he was strong, compassionate… most of the time. You know, he really didn’t want to take me on as an apprentice? After his first two apprentices… well, Xanatos Fell, and he dismissed Feemor as his apprentice entirely after that, so he saw only his failure, and refused to take me on.”

“How’d you convince him?” Ezra asked eagerly, and Obi-Wan smiled fondly before launching into the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear that last scene is important for reasons that will become clear later on in the series. I didn't just include Satine and talk of Qui-Gon for laughs. Also, care to guess what it was that Cal got the Echo off of?


	17. I Leaned in and Let It Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the incredible Dessa--seriously, thank you, I cannot tell you how much that meant to me.

Rex could safely say he’d never been more confused in his life. It was like General Krell wanted the campaign to fail. Even knowing that he was going to orchestrate a massacre of brother against brother didn’t prepare him for just how callous Krell was.

“Sir,” he tried to explain, “the gorge is narrow. We’ll only be able to move our platoons in single squads. A closer recon might tell us if there’s a more secure route.”

Somehow, even before Krell replied, he knew he was going to be overruled. “Obi-Wan and the other battalions are holding off the enemy right now,” Krell insisted, “While they wait for us to take out this base. We don’t have time to look for a more secure route.”

Rex watched him in disbelief as Krell turned and started walking away. “Sir, that is going to get our men killed,” he protested.

Krell whirled around, snarling. “I gave you an order, Captain. Obi-Wan is relying on us securing that airbase, and a full frontal assault is the fastest way to do so!”

“But not the best way,” a new voice interrupted, and Rex had never been so happy to hear Ezra Jarrus in his life. The boy was standing only a few feet away—how he’d gotten there without alerting any of them was a mystery—with his squad at his back. And if Rex was interpreting his expression correctly, he was trying not to smirk at the collective surprise at his appearance.

“And who are you?” Krell didn’t quite spit the question, but it was a near thing.

Ezra stepped forward, his smirk now clearly visible. “Commander Ezra Jarrus of the 212th. Obi-Wan sent me to help coordinate our forces.”

Rex nearly choked trying to swallow his laughter. Behind Ezra, Charger looked positively giddy. Rex was just glad he had his helmet on or else Krell would have been able to surmise that that was only a partial truth. Oh, Rex had no doubt that Obi-Wan had sent Ezra, he just doubted it was solely to coordinate forces or that Ezra had somehow gotten a promotion in the three weeks since he’d seen him last.

“I was not informed of this,” Krell sounded very put out. “Your assistance is not needed.”

Ezra clasped his hands behind his back, and Rex had time to think, _oh, no,_ because that was a near perfect impersonation of Anakin’s ‘I’m-in-charge’ pose, before he said, “Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t be if these were your men, but the 501st operates on a level that you aren’t quite used to. Besides, do you really want to go against General Kenobi’s orders?”

Rex bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Somehow, Ezra had managed to insinuate that it was Krell who needed a nineteen-year-old’s help, not the 501st, and was playing Obi-Wan’s seniority against him. It was such a genius move he was shaking with laughter. The pose might have been an impersonation of Anakin, but the words were all Padme, and from the way Ezra was grinning, he knew it and didn’t mind.

“Sir,” Rex put in as soon as he was sure his smile wouldn't be audible in his voice, “Commander Jarrus has worked alongside us several times before, and we all trust him. He knows what he’s doing.”

This time, it was Ezra who was struggling to hold in his laughter. Rex was grinning broadly from behind his bucket, because he knew Krell wouldn’t take kindly to be told they didn’t trust him or think he knew what he was doing.

Sure enough, Krell’s scowl deepened, and he stalked forward. If Ezra had been about two feet taller, he would have been nose-to-nose with Krell, but as it was, he had to crane his neck at an uncomfortable angle to look up at him. Impressively, there was not a shred of fear on his face or in his body language. He was confident and in control of himself and the situation, and everyone—especially Krell—could see it.

“Very well,” Krell said slowly. “I will accept your… assistance.”

Ezra smiled brightly. “Great! Adenn here found another route to the airbase that would give us the high ground, and it’s broader, too. It’ll be a safer approach.”

Even from ten feet away, Rex could see the muscles in Krell’s temple jump out as he clenched his teeth. “Excellent news,” he drawled.

Ezra just flashed him a winning smile and turned to the 501st. “Alright, Echo, Adenn, you two take a squad and scout out the route, make note of any and all resistance we might encounter. Keep your comms on. Rex, organize the rest of the platoons, we can come through three squads at a time. We need to be right behind Echo and the others, that way they’re not left out on their own. Charger, our squad will be leading the way.”

“Copy that, Commander,” Rex and the others echoed immediately, and with his back to Krell so the besalisk couldn’t see, Ezra rolled his eyes. Rex just smirked at him. He had literally been asking for this when he introduced himself to Krell as a commander.

The approach to the airbase went off almost without a hitch. They were caught by Umbaran infantry, yes, but with the heavy machinery focused on the direct approach, they weren’t nearly as badly outnumbered. With a wider route, Rex’s men had managed to defend themselves better, being less strung out. Also, true to Ezra’s word, the pass was along higher terrain, so Echo had been able to spot the Umbarans following them below and they’d been prepared for the ambush.

The assault went almost as well. Making one of the trees fall over over the perimeter had cut out the electric fence, letting them get into the base easily. From there, it was a simple matter of turning the base’s own weaponry against the tanks and remaining infantry.

It helped that Ezra was right there leading the charge. Rex wasn’t an empath or a Jedi, but he could swear he could feel morale rising every time Ezra was the first one jumping into the fray, the first one taking a risk. He let Rex give most of the orders, yes, but he never shied away from the action.

Rex had seen the reports for the missions Ezra and his squad had run in the last three weeks, and seeing the way they all moved together, Rex was no longer surprised that every single one had been a success. The boys who made up the squad were good, yes, but it was Ezra’s leadership that truly made them seem invincible.

It was also vastly different from Krell’s style of leadership, which apparently involved standing at the back and watching the action unfold like a game of holochess. The besalisk had two lightsabers and throughout the entire battle, Rex never saw him use one of them.

If Ezra had had a lightsaber, Rex would have had no doubt that it would have been out and serving as a shield between their men and the Umbarans. Idly wondering if Ezra would have a blue blade like his General’s or a green blade like his Commander’s—or knowing the kid, an indigo one because that kid was nothing if not unique—Rex marched over to where General Krell was entering the base.

“Status report,” Krell demanded, and Rex straightened.

“The airbase is secure, and the supply lines to the capital have been cut off. Commander Jarrus is informing General Kenobi of our victory as we speak.”

Krell pressed his mouth into a firm line. “That is unnecessary. I will apprise Obi-Wan of our situation.”

“He’s already talking to him, sir,” Rex put in, trying hard not to smile at Krell’s obvious annoyance because he wouldn’t be able to hide it under his bucket right now. “His orders are to report directly to General Kenobi, although he asked me to inform you so that you could hear General Kenobi’s orders yourself.”

The reminder that Obi-Wan was in charge of this campaign—and of Ezra—seemed to irritate Krell even more. And maybe he would regret that later, but for now, it was worth it. If Krell wasn’t going to care about their lives, he wasn’t going to care about Krell’s feelings.

With a nod, Krell stalked off, heading toward the command center. Rex sighed, letting himself relax a little bit now that Krell was gone. Turning, he spotted Ezra’s squad with Fives, Echo, Jesse and Tup and smiled. That looked like an interesting conversation.

“…And then, the commander just jumped off the closest building—I still have no idea how he got up there—” Club was saying excitedly, an awe-struck look on his face “—and he landed _on_ the droideka, shot it, and back-flipped off of it. It’s like working with a Jedi sometimes!”

Fives snorted. “Ezra _is_ a Jedi, just minus the glowing death-stick. Hey Captain,” he said, turning to Rex, “We were just catching up.”

“Good. It’s good to build camaraderie,” Rex said, all business, then softened. “Plus, it gives us plenty of ammunition to tease Ezra with.”

The group laughed, though Rex caught Charger looking over his shoulder toward the command center. “Relax, Charger,” Adenn said, having noticed as well. “He’ll be fine. He knows what he’s doing.”

_He’d better,_ Rex silently agreed. He himself had poured over the datapad Ashla had given him, which had two documents on Umbara: an after-action report including all fatalities, total supplies and ammunition used, and equipment lost, and a step-by-step manual of how to make sure the same thing didn’t happen. He knew Obi-Wan and Ezra had the same instructions, and could only hope they’d remembered to let Cody read it so the massacre didn’t happen.

From the way everything was being handled, though, Rex guessed that everyone who knew about the time travel was in on the plan.

“I’m just glad the wildlife decided not to be a bother this time,” Fives put in. “Those buggers are nasty.”

Mumbles of agreement rang out around him, though Charger looked contemplative. “Think that may have been Ezra,” he said, and Rex raised an eyebrow.

“Keeping the wildlife away?”

“Yeah,” Club said, nodding slowly like he understood Charger’s thought process. “He did something similar on Atollon, only he made them attack the pirates and not us, instead of just staying away.”

He’d heard the story, of course, but he hadn’t put the pieces together with what had happened on this campaign. “Ah. That would make sense.”

Jesse snorted. “Makes more sense than the wildlife deciding on their own not to mess with us.”

“What decided not to mess with us?” Ezra asked from behind them, and Rex jumped.

“Force, kid, you need to stop sneaking up on us,” he grumbled.

Ezra laughed. “Can’t help it,” he said, sitting down on one of the nearby crates. “I just naturally walk quietly. Didn’t used to, though, I was a massive klutz until I was about sixteen.”

Lockjaw huffed a quick laugh. “Snuck up on Hunter, too.”

“You worked with the Bad Batch?” Echo asked, looking intrigued, and Ezra and his squad all nodded.

“Yeah, that was the mission on Ringo Vinda,” Charger said. “With their help, we cleared almost a third of the station.”

“It was awesome,” Club said, still with that awestruck look on his face. Rex had to bite back hard at the embarrassed look on Ezra’s face.

“You guys and the Bad Batch did most of the heavy lifting,” he said, and Adenn shook his head.

“Aside from the planning, and the leading, and the taking down of the security grid so we could actually get into the station—”

Ezra threw his head back with a groan. “Okay, fine, I did a good bit, too, but I didn’t do everything so Club could you stop looking at me like I’m the big hero?”

Club shrugged. “You’re my hero.”

Ezra went completely red. Rex coughed hard, trying to disguise the laugh, while around him the others did the same. Honestly Rex could sympathize, Fives and Echo had both been bad about the hero worship when they’d joined the 501st, but they’d since come to realize that he was just another clone, but with a shinier title and incredible luck and a decent amount of skill. Club was never going to come to that realization because Ezra was actually a sort-of Jedi, though, so Ezra would just have to live with it.

Shooting them all a glare, Ezra crossed his arms. “Okay, moving on. Catch me up, what’s been going on with you guys?”

Shrugging, Rex sat down on another crate. “This and that. Had some ‘fun’ on Onderon, though you won’t find an official report of that. Still no word on Commander Offee, which has Commander Tano worried. Oh, and Fives and Echo adopted a chicken.”

Ezra had been nodding along, but when Rex got to that last part, he froze with a confused expression. “A chicken?” He repeated, flabbergasted, and Rex nodded.

“His name’s Bac Bac,” Fives put in smugly. “He’s with General Skywalker at the moment, or I’d introduce you.”

With a laugh, Ezra stood. “Yeah, you’d better do that the next time we’re in the same place. A chicken…” Still laughing, he gestured for Rex and Charger to follow him and walked off, shaking his head.

Rex wasn’t quite sure where they were going, but he followed anyway. Ezra was heading toward the fence, which the more mechanically inclined brothers had gotten up and running again. They passed brothers hauling equipment, escorting prisoners, and carrying wounded and dead to their respective destinations.

Ezra flinched every time they passed one of the latter. Rex wasn’t terribly surprised; the kid had a guilt complex rivaled only by General Skywalker’s. Hurrying his pace a little bit so that he was walking side-by-side with Ezra, he cautiously put a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, only to be shrugged off. Ezra gave him a small smile, though, so he was pretty sure the attempt to comfort was appreciated.

When they finally got to the fence, Ezra carefully scanned the area before sitting on the ground with his back to the fence. Charger took up a position opposite him, so he could see past the fence, and after a moment, Rex decided to sit in such a way that he could see both Ezra and Charger, and the base.

“Charger and Cody have both been filled in on the plan,” Ezra told him, a grim expression on his face, “so we should be okay on that front. I just wish we didn’t have to wait for him to commit treason for us to arrest him.”

Rex nodded, understanding completely. Reading the report of what Krell had done—would do if left unchecked—was bad enough, but something about his presence made Rex’s skin crawl in a way the report hadn’t. But if they tried to arrest him now, before he tried to arrange the massacre, they would be accused of treason and insubordination, and Krell would be free to continue throwing away the lives of the clones under his command.

Charger huffed, scanning the treeline. “The main problem is going to be convincing all of our other brothers not to start firing after Krell issues the order.”

“I’ll handle that,” Ezra promised, still looking grim. “Between the fact that Cody knows not to let them start firing until he sees our faces and the fact that we’re going to do the same, I think we’ll be able to avoid anyone firing a shot.”

“Well, if that’s being taken care of, why do you look so…?” Charger trailed off, apparently unable to find the word he was looking for.

“Guilty,” Rex supplied. “You look guilty.”

Ezra sighed, looking over at Charger. “You really should start charging for these sessions, Doc,” he said wryly before running a hand through his hair. “Forty-three men.”

Rex nodded. He knew what that number was. “We’ve lost more men in a lot of other battles. If anything it’s a miracle it was so few.”

“Intellectually, I know that, but still. Forty-three men. And they had names, and hopes for when the war ends—”

“And now their war has ended. But Ezra,” Rex leaned forward to emphasize his point, “It was supposed to be nearly three times that number. In the original timeline, it was one hundred twenty-eight total that were lost in this campaign. That’s almost an entire company. To only lose forty-three in what was supposed to be one of the two most devastating battles is remarkable. You shouldn’t doubt that.”

Ezra sighed heavily. “I know, it’s just… one hundred percent success rate. No casualties, all victories, and now I’ve lost forty-three men and I can’t help but wonder…”

“If those successes count for anything after such a loss,” Charger finished for him, then smacked him upside the head. Ignoring Ezra’s protest of “Hey!” he turned to REx. “Think we’ll ever knock sense into him?”

Rex laughed. “Maybe eventually.” Standing, he groaned. He wasn’t hurt, but he was definitely sore. Getting knocked down as many times as he had been was going to leave bruises, and while under other circumstances he would have gone to Kix for some bacta or something, right now, he knew they needed to save supplies for the almost inevitable showdown against Krell. For a moment he wished that Obi-Wan would come with Cody to help them take Krell down, but he knew Obi-Wan was needed elsewhere. They'd just have to make do. _Besides_ , he thought, _it’s not like we won’t have a Jedi with us. Just not a very conventional one._

_______ 

It was Fives’ idea, but it was Ezra’s squad who pulled it off, so technically, Rex was clear of any of the blame for stealing a couple of the Umbarans’ fighters and blowing up the supply ship. That was what Rex repeated in his head over and over again as he made his way to the command center, where Krell was waiting for him.

The elevator slid open and Rex reluctantly marched in, helmet on, even though he normally wouldn't have bothered. Anakin always said he hated not being able to see the faces of his men, to which Rex always responded that he rather liked having men with their heads intact. Krell, however, seemed content to let the men become faceless figures, just numbers on his report that he would say he regretted to report had been lost.

“Sir,” he said stiffly, “the enemy supply ship has been destroyed.”

Krell was gritting his teeth as he stared out the window at the three fighters coming in for a landing. “I thought my orders were very clear on that matter, CT-7567.”

“They were, Sir, and my men followed your orders.”

“Then how was the ship destroyed?”

Rex fought to keep the grin off of his face as, through the window, he could see Ezra, Adenn, and Lockjaw hopping out of their respective fighters. “It was Commander Jarrus and his men, Sir. They took the initiative as they were certain that doing so would be in line with General Kenobi’s orders.”

Krell turned around to face him, and he wasn’t sure, but Rex thought Krell’s eyes might have flashed a brighter yellow than they usually were. Unconsciously, he took a step back, remembering that angering the volatile besalisk probably wasn’t the best idea.

“I did not authorize this.”

Rex swallowed. Hard. “Commander Jarrus reports directly to General Kenobi. He is not required to consult with you before executing a mission. If he disobeys an order, it will be General Kenobi’s duty to punish him for it.”

Behind Rex, the elevator door slid open again. “Punish who for what?” Ezra asked, strolling in nonchalantly.

“You, for disobeying my direct orders,” Krell growled, and Ezra shot him an unimpressed glare.

“I don’t take orders from you,” he said, and Rex was just glad the tone didn’t make him come off as a bratty child. Crossing his arms, Ezra added, “I was taking care of the supply lines, which, if I remember correctly, was also the purpose of taking this base. I hardly think that qualifies as going against orders.”

Krell scoffed and looked back out the window. “CT-7567, you are dismissed.”

Rex hesitated for a second, glancing over at Ezra to make sure he was okay with being left alone with the piece of osik, but Ezra nodded and gestured toward the door. With a sigh, Rex turned and left.

Leaving, however, meant that Rex wasn’t there for the transmission, but as soon as Ezra commed him and told him what was happening, he called for all the troops to move out. They’d been prepared to, thankfully—no one was stupid enough to believe that capturing the airbase meant their job was done—so they were able to march out immediately.

Rex led the way, with Ezra and Charger beside him. Behind him, he could hear the nervous shifting of grips on weapons, and the quiet murmur of anxious voices. He clenched his teeth, ignoring the way his hands were starting to sweat, and pressed onward.

“No one fire until we get a good look, just to be safe,” Ezra ordered under his breath, and Charger turned to relay that through the ranks. An outbreak of furious whispering reached Rex’s ears, and he sighed.

“Do you really want to take the risk of firing on brothers?” He asked, and the whispering died down.

Dogma still looked uncertain. “But we have orders—”

“And if Obi-Wan decided to send his men to take care of the Umbarans wearing our armor?” Rex asked, and Dogma stood down. Grateful for the quiet, Rex raised his blaster pistols and swept his eyes over the surrounding area.

A few dozen yards away, a flash of light caught his eye, and he turned, staring at it. It was code, he realized after a moment, patterns of different lengths that, if he was interpreting correctly, translated to 212.

Straightening, Rex lowered his pistols and signaled a halt. A moment later, Cody appeared from behind one of the huge trees, and waved them over.

“Commander, Captain, good to see you,” Cody said in greeting, and Rex grinned at him.

“Good to see you, too, _vod._ You looking for the Umbarans who stole your armor?”

Cody shook his head, pulling off his helmet to flash a confused look at Rex. “No, we were looking for the Umbarans who stole your armor. The 501st’s, not the 212th’s. Only reason we didn’t shoot you on sight is because we saw you, Commander.”

If Rex hadn’t known he was acting, he would have genuinely thought Cody meant it. But his little act was making both the 501st and the 212th mutter in confusion, which meant it was working. They couldn’t possibly have known about this ploy ahead of time, so they were having to act their _shebs_ off.

Charger frowned, stepping in. “But if you thought it was our armor, and we thought it was yours…”

“It could have led to a massacre,” Ezra said, folding his arms and pulling a decent imitation of Obi-Wan’s considering face. “And let me guess, it was Krell who told you about the Umbarans stealing our armor.”

Cody nodded. Beside him, Waxer looked sick. “You mean, General Krell was trying to get us to kill each other?”

“And nearly succeeded,” Ezra said grimly. “Obi-Wan and I had a bad feeling about him, but this is…” He shook his head.

“This is the last straw,” Fives declared. “I won’t follow the orders of a man who would throw away our lives like that! We have to do something!”

Cody rubbed his face. “This warrants an investigation, and until then, he needs to be kept in holding.”

Rex nodded. Personally, he wished they’d done this much sooner, but now they had the reason they needed, and they could get on with it. “Let’s go arrest a general.”

_______ 

The countdown was only getting smaller, and she still wasn’t anywhere close to disabling the bomb. Glancing at the timer, Sabine wiped the sweat off her brow quickly before turning her attention back to the guts of the device. Thirty seconds left; she could do this. She had to.

Twenty seconds. She carefully removed another component, tossing behind her the moment it was out of the housing.

Fifteen seconds. Tracing the wire from the detonator through the inner workings of the bomb, she almost cursed to see it connecting to the now-exposed core among a myriad of other wires.

Ten seconds. Which wire was it? Where did it lead to? She had to cut it off between the core and the payload, but she couldn’t find it.

Five seconds. Four. Three. She tried to trace the wire, but she lost it again, her sweaty hands slipping in the hot device.

Two. Grabbing the wire cutters, she picked a god and prayed, cutting a wire at random.

The device blared a loud tone, and Sabine closed her eyes, waiting for what would come next. She knew she’d failed.

“Boom,” Kanan said dryly from the other side of the room. With a frustrated groan, she threw the wire cutters away, taking no satisfaction in the small clang they produced when they hit the wall. They were in the small common room of the ship they’d stolen to get off Lothal. She still wasn’t sure why they’d kept it, but it was nice to have a place where they didn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing them.

“This is stupid,” she grumbled, sitting back and stretching to relieve her aching back.

Kanan shook his head, pushing off of the wall he’d been leaning against. “No, stupid is being unable to defuse a bomb that you set. You need to know how to do this.”

“I can defuse the bombs I set!” Sabine protested, and Kanan shook his head.

“And if you have to set and defuse a bomb that the clones give you? Or a Separatist bomb? What then?”

Sabine sat back, crossing her arms. “Then I would call the bomb squad.”

“You _are_ the bomb squad,” Kanan said, annoyance leaking into his voice.

“No, I’m not! Bomb squad is part of the GAR, I’m a kriffing Mandalorian, not a clone, not a Jedi, not even technically a member of the karking Republic!” She exclaimed, shooting to her feet. “Why do I have to learn this?”

Kanan huffed. “Because those are the bombs that are used in this time period, so if you want to be able to fit in and be useful, you need to learn the tech!”

Biting back a frustrated scream, she kicked aside the dummy bomb and stormed out of the ship, into the hanger of General Secura’s flagship. Kanan was just being so—so—aggravating. It was like she’d only stepped back in time to when he was teaching her how to use the Darksaber, instead of back to the time she’d been born.

Eventually she found herself in the engine room, and found a place high up where she could watch the officers milling around. If they noticed that she was there, they didn’t say anything.

With a huff, she sank to the ground, pulling up the tracker she’d built and programmed to track which battalions had been de-chipped. Seeing the numbers, she sighed and sat back. They were close. They were so close and then this would all be over, and she’d be cut adrift. She’d have no idea what to do with herself. Her clan wouldn’t recognize her, and her family was mostly gone. All she had left was Kanan, and he was acting so… not like Kanan. Closed off, guarded, whatever you wanted to call it, it wasn’t him, and it made it impossible for her to be in the same room as him for more than five minutes at a time.

Taking another deep breath, she looked back at the numbers. There were only four battalions and the Coruscant guard to go, and they were all working on it. Soon, she promised herself. Soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bac Bac is a character the Phoenix Nest Discord server came up with, and while I didn't want him on Umbara, Ezra will get to meet him in person eventually.   
> Thanks for reading, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	18. May We Live and Die a Valorous Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It's a week early! But seeing as it's the last chapter, I figured, what the heck? Might as well do it now. No promises as to when the next part in the series will be up, though. Hopefully it'll be soon.  
> Edit: I forgot to mention that this chapter was also beta'd by the incredible Dessa! I apologize, Dessa, I should have given you credit immediately. thanks for involuntarily reminding me

It was a hell of a way to die.

Maybe that would have been an inappropriate thing to say, but it wasn’t like Charger had the breath to say it. Slowly, he scanned the clearing, taking in the carnage, a faint sense of disgust and amusement at Krell’s fate rising in his gut. The carnivorous plant that Krell’s body had fallen into belched, apparently satisfied with its meal of scorched besalisk.

In front of the plant, Ezra holstered his weapon, panting hard. Even from this distance, Charger could tell his hair was plastered to his forehead, and exhaustion made his shoulders slump, but somehow he pushed through it, turning around and jogging over to where Charger was lying.

Jesse was fussing over him, but given the lack of actual medical assistance he was being provided, Charger made the educated guess that the wound to his chest actually was as bad as he’d thought it would be.

And he’d known it would be bad. A stab wound to the chest from a lightsaber was no joking matter under any circumstance, but add in an angry besalisk aiming for his commander and there was no way this was going to end well.

Coughing, he grimaced as pain lanced through his chest. Something felt broken, like his entire chest was collapsing. Punctured lung, more than likely.

Ezra was suddenly kneeling over him, next to Jesse. Somewhere behind them, he could hear Rex and Cody issuing orders, but instead he focused on the teary blue eyes in front of him.

“Not your fault, Commander,” he gasped, coughing again. This time, he felt something metallic in his mouth, and spat it out. Blood splattered the ground next to him. Definitely a punctured lung, then. Even with his limited medical knowledge he knew that wasn’t good.

Ezra looked devastated, and Charger could practically see the blame building in his face. “I’m sorry, Force, Charge, I’m so sorry, you’re going to be fine, I swear—” he glanced over at Jesse, who just solemnly shook his head, and his eyes widened. “No, no, he’s gonna be fine, he has to be!”

“Kid,” Charger reached up, wincing at how much the movement took out of him, and grabbed Ezra’s shoulder. “It’s… it’s okay. Always knew… I’d die, protecting—” he coughed harshly, and he felt something break open inside his chest. An artery? A vein? He didn’t know, but he knew he didn’t have much time left “—protecting my Jedi.”

He was glad he got those last three words out, but as soon as he did, his vision started going grey. Ezra’s expression turned panicked and he tapped Charger’s face, like he was trying to wake him up. Charger barely felt it.

“No, nonono, stay with us! Charger, keep your eyes open, that’s an order! It’s an order, so you have to—Charger, please!”

Oh. Charger hadn’t actually noticed that his eyes had drifted closed. Forcing them open, he managed a small, pained smile for Ezra’s sake. Behind his commander, Jesse raised a hypospray and gave him a questioning look. He only managed a small nod, but that seemed to be enough for the clone, who, with surprising gentleness, pressed it into Charger’s neck, pulling away slowly.

Immediately the burning in his rib cage subsided, and the panic of not being able to breathe faded. This time, the smile he gave Ezra came a bit easier, and was a bit more genuine. But the colors were still gone, and the edges of his vision were beyond fuzzy—they were black.

With one last squeeze of Ezra’s shoulder, Charger closed his eyes and let himself drift away.

_ Thirty-Eight Minutes Earlier _

Ezra took one last steadying breath before the elevator door slid open. Krell was waiting for them, his back to the door, as the men filed out around Rex, who was taking the lead on this, and formed a semicircle around Krell, aiming their weapons squarely at his back.

“General Krell, you’re under arrest,” Rex declared, and Krell turned to face him. His eyes were definitely not their natural color anymore, shining an eerie gold that reminded Ezra uncomfortably of Maul’s eyes.

“It’s treason, then,” Krell spat, and immediately drew both of his lightsabers, falling into an aggressive stance.

Rex glanced back at Ezra for a split second, and he nodded, relaxed and ready to move despite the fear thrumming through his veins. This was the first time he’d gone up against another Force-wielder since… well, since Dathomir, and that was well over two years ago and he hadn’t really been trying then, too afraid to hurt one of his friends. So he was rusty at best, and that scared him because he couldn’t afford to mess this up. Krell had to be brought to justice.

He didn’t have any time to ponder his readiness, though, because Rex was opening fire, the other troopers following suit. Blaster bolts flew thick through the air, Krell’s lightsabers deflecting them at a speed Ezra could hardly believe. He had his own blaster out, and was taking more careful shots, trying to slip past Krell’s defense, but it was no good. If Krell had just had a double-bladed lightsaber, or just dual-wielded, it might have worked, but with four blades whirling around, he couldn’t get a shot in.

Krell very quickly got tired of playing defense and leapt forward, his lightsabers already spinning. Before he hit the ground, though, Ezra reached out and  _ shoved, _ pushing Krell out the window with the Force.

Taking a quick glance around the room—four soldiers down, with blaster wounds to their torsos and heads—he called, “Meet me on the ground!” before flinging himself out the hole Krell had made in the window. Behind him he heard Rex and Charger both cry out, but he was too busy focusing on the blue and green blades heading for the perimeter of the base to understand what they were saying.

Ezra landed in a crouched position and took off as fast as he could after Krell. There was a trail of bodies, both dead and wounded, showing him which direction he had gone, and rage bubbled up in Ezra’s chest. How dare he—

_ No, _ he cut those thoughts off as he neared the perimeter.  _ Don’t let the anger control you, _ he reminded himself, _ control  _ it.

The fence was down, and a squad of men—his men, he realized as he got closer, was standing in the treeline. “We lost him, Sir,” Adenn reported, and Ezra grimaced.

Behind him he heard the men who’d followed him into the control room approaching. Checking the power pack on his blaster, he said, “We’re going after him. He can’t reach enemy lines. If he does, he can give them information on our defenses.”

“Agreed,” Rex said, panting slightly, “but tracking him is going to be hard.”

Charger and the rest of Ezra’s squad turned to Ezra expectantly, and he took another steadying breath before closing his eyes and reaching out. It didn’t take him long to locate him, mostly because Krell wasn’t that far. He was waiting for them, Ezra realized. He wanted them to pursue him.

Well, it couldn’t be helped. They had to stop him, so they had no choice but to walk into his trap. Thankfully, Ezra had one trick up his sleeve that Krell would not be expecting, even after he’d revealed himself as Force-sensitive. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to use it, but if need be, he would.

“Stick close to me,” Ezra said, opening his eyes again. “It’s a trap.”

”Oh, fun,” Charger commented under his breath, and Ezra bit back a smile. Charger was always good for lightening the mood.

They made their way carefully through the undergrowth, keeping a wary eye on the shadows. Ezra kept his eyes up and ahead, where he knew Krell was, and Rex, Fives, and Echo seemed to pick up on it, as they kept their blaster pointed the same way. Charger was watching his six, and the other dozen or so men were fanning out, preparing for an ambush from any angle.

Abruptly, Krell’s Force signature vanished, and Ezra came to an immediate halt, signalling for his men to do the same. This was where the ambush was going to take place, then. It was a good place, a small clearing that they couldn’t all comfortably stand in, devoid of most of the more bio-luminescent plant life that this planet boasted. A thin mist clung to the ground as well, making visibility even worse.

A hint of warning rang through the Force, and Ezra yelled, “Look out!” right as Krell sprang from the shadows, lashing out and taking two of the men out. Immediately, they all closed ranks, and Ezra was somewhat happy to see that Club ended up being in the middle. He knew the kid could handle himself, but it made Ezra feel better knowing he was safe. Well, safer.

Krell disappeared before they could get a solid lock on him, and Ezra cursed, scanning the treeline around them, trying desperately to reach out and get a lock on Krell’s signature. There was nothing to find, though. He was camouflaging.

“Where is he?” He heard someone whisper, just before Krell reappeared, skewering one man and throwing another—Lockjaw, Ezra realized with a muted sense of horror—threw the air with the Force. He landed in a heap, and Ezra had to fight the urge to run after him, instead focusing on getting a few rounds off before Krell vanished again.

Jesse ran over to check on Lockjaw, who was slowly sitting up. Ezra felt a rush of relief but didn’t let himself relax. Scanning the treeline, he reached out for any and all wildlife, knowing they could be a big help, but there wasn’t any close enough to help. Several meters away, there was a vixus, but the immobile creature was too far away to help.

The hair on the back of Ezra’s neck stood up, and he tensed, ready to move. He wasn’t ready to be bowled over from behind right as a lightsaber was swung into the space he’d been occupying.

A scream rang out, and Ezra rolled into a kneeling position, shoving Krell away with the Force. Looking down, a swell of horror rose in his chest as he saw Charger lying on the ground, clutching a wound in his chest. Krell’s lightsaber had gone right through him, and from the angle it was at, Ezra knew that if Charger hadn’t tackled him, he would now be dead.

Krell looked up from where he’d landed, grinning maliciously. Ezra stood slowly, breathing carefully as he carefully took control of the anger rising from his chest.  _ Use it, _ a part of him whispered,  _ let it use you. _

Instead of listening to it, he reached for the serenity of the Force and twined his anger around it, and suddenly, the galaxy shifted. The world around him stilled, and he could breathe again. This was right. This was  _ balance _ .

With a soft growl, he said, “That was a mistake.”

Krell laughed. “You think you can challenge me, boy?”

“No,” Ezra said, pulling the two pieces of equipment off his belt for the first time since Thrawn had reluctantly shown them to him. “I think I can beat you.”

Twisting them together, Ezra ignited the blue lightsaber and saluted Krell before falling into his opening stance. Krell looked surprised as he straightened, igniting his second lightsaber, but he didn’t look scared. Obviously he still didn't take Ezra as a serious threat.

Around him, the boys also looked surprised to see him holding a lightsaber, but they got over their shock quickly enough to point their weapons at Krell.

The besalisk was sneering. “You think wielding a lightsaber makes you a Jedi?”

Ezra didn’t answer. Instead he did something unexpected. He reached out with the Force, grabbing Krell’s offhand ‘saber, and gave it a sharp tug, pulling it out of Krell’s hands and sending it hurtling towards himself. As soon as it was in range, he moved, cutting it in half right through the power cell so it was completely useless.

Krell looked outraged, but as soon as he started to move, Rex and the others opened fire, sending a storm of blasterfire his way. Stepping back with a growl, Krell deflected the bolts, some back out at the boys, the rest into the undergrowth. As soon as there was a lull in the blasterfire, though, he sprang forward, slashing his lightsaber and catching Cody in the side.

Ezra leapt forward at the same time, catching Krell’s blade with his own and matching him stroke for stroke. It seemed almost insanely easy, like he had all the time in the world and could see Krell’s every move several seconds before he even thought of them. Eventually they came to a saber lock, and Ezra was hard pressed to hold his ground.

He could feel the boys around him, circling in the hopes of getting a clean shot, but there wasn’t one. Krell’s teeth were inches away from Ezra’s face, and so Ezra did the logical thing. He headbutted him.

It hurt like hell, but it was worth it. Krell stumbled back, and Ezra leapt forward, going on the offensive. He slashed low and caught the edge of Krell’s leg before Krell could recover, making him growl. Krell responded with a whirl of his ‘saber, making Ezra duck one blade and jump over the other.

In mid-air, he kicked Krell in the jaw, flipping to come down facing the besalisk, who lunged forward. Ezra deflected the blade aimed at his chest, stepping inside Krell’s guard just long enough to fire a shot with his blaster pistol, catching Krell in the middle of his chest.

Krell fell to one knee, his lightsaber disengaging, and Ezra stepped back, giving him the courtesy of not kicking him when he was down. Panting, Krell managed, “Who are you?”

Ezra smirked and leaned down, whispering something in Krell’s ear. Immediately his eyes widened in fear and he shoved Ezra away—with his hands, not the Force, thankfully—and Ezra responded by throwing him several meters back toward where he’d sensed the vixus earlier.

Krell landed on his feet, somehow, and immediately reignited his remaining lightsaber. Ezra leapt after him, shoving his right arms out of the way and leaping, twirling in midair to cut Krell all the way through twice.

Krell didn’t react for a second, just stayed there, frozen, his eyes wide in disbelief. Ezra used the Force one last time to shove Krell back into the vixus’ waiting mouth. The three separate pieces of the besalisk—his head and upper right arm, his torso, and his legs—were all quickly consumed, and Ezra sheathed his lightsaber, reattaching it to his belt with a grim expression.

Behind him, he heard Charger cough, and immediately it felt like ice water had been poured down the back of his shirt. Charger had been hurt. And he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to another friend, even though he had the sinking feeling he was about to.

______

When Obi-Wan arrived at the airbase, Ezra didn’t bother running out to meet him. He knew Rex would tell him where he was. Right now, he couldn't leave Charger—or rather, Charger’s body. He had died shortly after Jesse had given him a painkiller, and Ezra had been morbidly glad that he at least hadn’t been in pain.

Sure enough, Obi-Wan entered the room being used as a morgue only a minute or two after he arrived. If he found it odd that Ezra was in here, holding the cold hand of a clone, he didn’t say anything.

After a minute of silence, Ezra said softly, “This was my fault.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Ezra, you know Charger wouldn’t want you blaming yourself.”

“If I had just moved sooner, he wouldn’t have been in the way, and he’d still be here.”

A hand on his shoulder made Ezra flinch, and immediately the hand disappeared. Obi-Wan stayed. “It was supposed to be somewhere in the thirties, but it wasn’t. You lost eight men to him, Ezra, and I know that hurts. Any loss of life is a tragedy, especially when it’s one of your closest friends. But how many lives did you save? Twenty-four, Ezra, more if you count the men you saved on the assault on the airbase. You know Charger would want you to remember that.”

Ezra shut his eyes. He did know that. He could even imagine Charger telling him as much in that gentle, no-nonsense way of his. It hurt, knowing that he was gone, but at the same time, he knew Obi-Wan was right. Charger would never blame him, had even told him as much, but that didn’t make the pain of that loss go away.

“He saved my life,” Ezra whispered, his voice breaking. He opened his eyes and looked back at Obi-Wan, trying to convey just how much he was hurting with a single glance.

Obi-Wan nodded. “I can’t imagine him going out any other way.”

Ezra clenched his jaw, turning back to Charger’s body with tears in his eyes.  _ “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.” _ Giving Charger’s hand one last squeeze, he let go, standing and wiping the tears from his eyes.

Obi-Wan pulled him in for a hug as soon as he was within arms’ reach. “It’ll be alright,” he whispered, and Ezra hugged him back, squeezing a little bit to show how much the comfort Obi-Wan was offering meant to him.

Sniffing, Ezra let go and gestured for Obi-wan to lead the way. He obliged, taking them both out to the airstrip, where a series of LAATis had landed a few minutes prior. Obi-Wan didn't stop there, though, and led him to a more secluded spot of the base, between one of the hangers and the command center. As soon as they got there, Obi-Wan turned to face him, and immediately Ezra straightened.

“What happened?” He asked, because Obi-Wan’s face told him something was very wrong.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Ashla’s datapad talked about this, but I need to be sure.” Pulling a holocommunicator from his robes, he activated it, and Ezra immediately recoiled. He knew that person. He was stalking around a group of terrified people—hostages—with his lightsaber drawn, a different set of legs that looked far from the humanoid ones he’d sported in Ezra’s time, but it was undeniably him.

_ “There will be more innocent blood on your hands, Kenobi, unless you come here, face me. Come alone, and if you do not,” _ Maul hissed, swinging his lightsaber and decapitating all of his hostages, _ “this world will burn.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry. I just couldn't help the cliffhanger. And sorry for killing off Charger. I loved him too, but I needed to kill someone, and Charger was the best candidate.


End file.
